A Candle to Guide Me
by Babbs78
Summary: While investigating a lead, Steve discovers a group of Russians holding a young woman hostage in a condemned warehouse; his rescue attempt fails but things are not what they seem when his life is spared. When the Russians return to tie up loose ends, can Steve protect all that he holds dear or will he be broken beyond repair? Warnings: Violence and torture! Steve/OC Read and Review


This is my first time posting my work so feel free to critique (I'm more interested in hearing what could/should be re-worked but say what you will ). This is rated M for violence and some sensual content (Nothing explicit!) so please read at your own discretion. I used Google Translate and it is not accurate but, for this story, it is what it is. This is really long but I haven't gotten into chapters and whatnot so apologies in advance :D

 ***Update!** Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and comments. Several readers have requested an alternate ending and, at first, I was totally against the idea; however, after some thought, I have decided to write an alternate and expand it into a second story. It will take time but thank you to the two guests who gave me the idea! Also, Guest reviews are great but sign in because I would love to reply to each person individually :D

A Candle to Guide Me

"Hey – hey! You awake?"

The soft, low voice sunk into his hazy consciousness, like ink into water, and Steve blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to focus. It was moments like this when the commander of 5-0 felt a strangling sense of mental claustrophobia, his awareness limited to his own body as his mind rebooted itself.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

There was that voice again. Steve tried to turn towards it but felt the restraints at his wrists and instantly became more alert. He was on his side, facing a jumble of metal drums and rusted dock equipment, wrists and ankles snuggly secured and the pain in his head consistent with being knocked out. His mind was already beginning to work backward, retracing his steps: A long list of warehouses had been flagged as possible drop sites for an upcoming cartel shipment. Sang Min had slipped them the tip and warned against having the HPD help out until they had identified the correct drop. There were about twenty-seven properties stretching from the north shore all the way down and Steve and Danny had divided the list between them. They were all warehouses along the docks that had recently been bought, sold, remodeled, or emptied but Steve knew well the signs of something trying to be what it wasn't and he felt he was making quick work of his list and hoped Danny was doing the same. He had just reached his eighth stop and was heading towards the building when he noticed the two black vans across the street; he could see that the building behind them was supposed to be condemned but the vans were new and conveniently missing their license plates. Part military training and part curiosity made him slip across the street and work his way around the perimeter. A small, broken window on the west side provided a view inside and Steve raised his head just enough to peer into the gloomy interior. Heaps of junk and old equipment littered nearly half the floor to the right; the left side was almost a complete opposite: Four tall construction lamps illuminated a row of folding tables that held all manner of electronics and computer monitors. Two men sat at the tables, immersed in their work, two more lingered by the door, assault rifles slung across their chests. Steve slowly shifted to the other side of the window so he could see the rest of the room; three more men stood around a chair that was set apart from everything else and held a young woman.

Scenarios began flashing through his mind like someone thumbing through a filing cabinet. Kidnapping and ransom, prostitution, blackmail, or just plain old murder, the possibilities were plentiful but the details were what helped him narrow down his options. First, there were too many men involved for a simple murder, the amount of electronic equipment would be overkill for blackmail, and if it were prostitution he would expect to see evidence of more than just the one woman. If it _were_ a K &R, she must be valuable – or not. As Steve continued to watch, the man standing before the woman seemed to ask her something and she made no response. The second man on the left reached out to grip her head while the third one executed a quick series of hits to her face and shoulder…One…Two…Three…Four…Five…six…stopping only when signaled by the leader.

Steve drew his SIG in readiness as he considered the best way to free the young woman; he should call for back-up but Danny was on the north shore, Chin and Kono were escorting Sang Min back to Halawa, and he didn't want to alert anyone in HPD who may be working for the Cartel that 5-0 was poking around the docks. A diversion would be safest and most effective, Steve decided, as it should draw most of the men outside and hopefully give him enough time get inside unnoticed. He was about to move back towards the vans when he heard the crackle of gravel and spun to see a foot racing towards his head and he didn't even notice when he hit the ground.

"Psst – are you awake?"

Steve could only groan in answer as he realized the persistent voice must belong to the young woman he'd seen through the window. Levering himself into a sitting position was awkward – and painful. Blood immediately began to pound at his left temple and it took several deep breaths before he could acclimate his eyes to the halogen glare from the lamps. "Who are you?" He asked quietly, unsure if they were alone.

"Fine, thanks, who are you?"

"What? No, I mean _who_ are you – what's your name?" He tried to shift so he could see her face but one of the lamps was positioned almost directly behind her and the glare kept her in shadows.

 _Not much of a Marx Brothers fan, huh?_ She let out an amused snort before answering. "Like I'd really tell you! I don't know you – it could be your pals in the other room, there, for all I know."

 _Good point._ This girl was smart…and remarkably calm considering her situation. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd had to prove he was there to help. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett with 5-0…"

"Says _you_."

It had been even longer since he had anyone who didn't seem to want his help. "Hey, I would show you my badge, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." His head still hurt and this woman wasn't helping. For a split second he felt like he was arguing with a female version of Danny.

"No pun intended, I'm sure." She shot back good naturedly. If he _was_ working with Kohlurov then she was in more trouble than she'd thought, this guy was pretty convincing – and very nice looking.

If not for the humor in her voice, Steve would have been getting mad. It was his job to protect people and on a daily basis that protection was accepted gratefully! But this girl wasn't doing him any favors, but in all honesty, he couldn't blame her for being suspicious. Steve had no idea why these men were holding her here or what they wanted; were their positions reversed, he knew he wouldn't trust her so easily either. "I'm sorry, you're right. I can't prove who I am right now but I do want to get us both out of here –"

"Zip it!" she hissed a moment before he heard a door open and the three men returned, taking up their previous positions as if Steve wasn't even there.

"Do you have anything for me yet?" The leader's voice was heavily accented and Steve didn't even have to see the pointed tattoo at the man's neck to guess he was Bratva, Russian mafia.

"I give you good recommendation for new hair stylist." She replied, mimicking his brogue to perfection. "Maybe plastic surgeon too, no?"

The leader chuckled and clasped his hands behind him before bending towards her. "I think you will need one more than I, devushka." (Girl)

Steve would have laughed if he didn't know what was coming next. Her sharp intake of breath was followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, a succession of quick strikes, as before, left her groaning through rapid, heavy breaths. He hadn't moved since she'd shushed him, wary of attracting their attention before he was in a position to engage them, but now he couldn't help shifting to his knees to see her.

"Commander McGarrett, you will not move again." The leader commanded softly, drawing a pistol from his jacket and pointing it directly at Steve's head without ever taking his eyes off the young woman as his men continued to beat her.

Steve tried to keep still but he was twisting his hands furiously to get free. He just had to get one hand free and grab the gun – the opportunity was gone as quickly as it had come when one of the men suddenly hoisted the woman from the chair, put two hard punches in her gut, and threw her to the floor where she lay still.

The gun was put away. "Enough, for now." The leader said casually as he finally turned to look down at McGarrett. "You wish to save her, Commander, yes? Tell her to answer my questions next time. I will get what I need whether she is alive or not, but I prefer not to waste my time searching."

Once they were gone, Steve didn't waste a moment as he rolled onto his back and worked his wrists up and over his legs so he could better maneuver himself over to the young woman. She was still unconscious but he gently pulled her head onto his lap and pressed the hem of his shirt against the worst of the cuts on her head. Without the lamp to blind him, Steve finally studied the woman's face: a broad forehead, dark brows and hair, a strong nose, thin lips, a small chin and sharp jaw line. She was in her late twenties, he guessed as he smoothed the hair away from the worst of the blood on her face. She didn't look like anyone the Russians would be interested in but obviously she had something they wanted – and were willing to kill for. He was still stroking her hair when her eyes flicked open and she let out a pitiful groan, more of displeasure than pain. "Take it easy, don't move." He urged softly. "They're gone for now, are you alright?"

She didn't answer right away, content to just stare up at him and feel his gentle touch. Good Lord, she couldn't remember the last time anyone had really _touched_ her. Not like a hand shake or brushing someone's arm in passing, but a real, purposeful, caring touch. Isolation was the nature of her job and she'd only ever had one job; she didn't have friends – or even acquaintances, really – no family that she knew of, just the job.

"Hey are you okay? They hurt you pretty bad."

She managed a grin, but it hurt. "You should see the other guy." He tried to help as she rolled onto shaky hands and knees but she ignored him. "Still playing the good guy, huh?" she asked absently, swaying slightly as she gained her feet. The room wouldn't quit rocking and she finally just closed her eyes, feeling her way back to the chair.

"You should take it slow; I'm just trying to help." Steve was surprised she was doing as well as she was but rolled his eyes when she gave a theatrical thumbs-up before settling heavily onto the chair and throwing her legs up over the arm.

Head back, eyes still closed, she could be relaxing right now were it not for this wanna-be hero. She could feel his eyes on her as if trying to read her thoughts. _Hey gorgeous, what I wouldn't do for a smile from that pretty face!_ She cracked open an eye to see if he'd heard that thought. _Guess not_. She knew she should be taking this more seriously but flat humor and hansom distractions were how she coped with things of late and, with her demise apparently imminent, it seemed pointless to adopt a mentally healthier outlook now.

Steve saw her steal a glance at him and wondered why she was behaving so strangely. Any normal person would be panicking, whether they'd just been beaten silly or not, and would definitely be looking to escape. But this girl seemed content to doze until the men came back; she wasn't even tied up and the least she could do was help him! "So…are you just going to wait for them to come back or do you think, maybe, it might be a good idea to untie me so we can both get out of here?" He tried to keep his voice even but again he felt like he was trying to reason with Danny. The two men who he'd seen at the computers earlier were now gone, there was no better time to escape!

"Who are you, again?" She asked as if she couldn't care less.

With that, Steve lost his patience. "You know what, maybe this is all some game to you! Maybe you get off on those guys smacking you around, I don't know – but I _do_ want to get out of here so please come untie me! Please, before they come back. I would like to live, even if you don't."

Her feet came back to the floor with a loud slap as she leaned forward, elbows on knees, regarding him seriously for the first time. She supposed it was possible for him to be telling the truth, though she had always operated on the assumption that someone was always trying to play her and her instincts were habitually on the setting of 'full mistrust'. She found it hard to believe that he was just worried about her and wanted to help; good Lord, she didn't think there were still people like that. If she was wrong, she knew she'd pay for it but if she believed what he said then it might be worth taking the risk.

Steve was tempted to look away from those piercing eyes, wondering if he'd pushed too far. But she stood and moved towards him, pausing to squat at his side. Their faces were inches apart and she was still spearing him with that dark, appraising gaze.

"Where is it?" She asked softly, both expectant and suspicious.

"What?" Steve finally blinked, caught off guard. "Where's what?"

She smiled slowly but there was no humor in it. "Your badge, remember? 'Lieutenant Captain of 5-0' and all that." Her eyes were cold as ice, sure she'd caught him in a lie. He was no different than others, just more lies –

"It's Lieutenant _Commander_ , and my badge is on my waistband." He corrected, daring her to prove him wrong. She was sharp and still seemed determined not to trust him.

A grin tugged at the right corner of her mouth as she leaned behind him and fished out his wallet instead, before returning to her chair. "A Navy man, hmm? Not much of a cop, then…what BUD's class were you in?"

Again he was scrutinized with a cold stare. "Two-oh-three; spent six years with the SEAL's. You?" He didn't expect her to answer and she didn't, instead she once again came to squat beside and dropped both his badge and wallet into his lap. She was really good! He hadn't even felt her take the badge. "Are you going to untie me now?"

She'd studied the pictures in his wallet, happy people, smiling, and eyes full of love. It could all be fake but she hated to admit that she did believe him. He'd come in here to help her, apparently on his own, too, and she suddenly felt obligated to help him instead; she hadn't asked for help but she wouldn't let _anyone_ be hurt because of her. She offered a knowing grin in answer to the question in his pretty blue eyes. "Steve…" His name sounded strong on her lips, brave and protective. "I would untie you…but I think I care what happens to you, now, and Kohlurov's men are outside the door." She stood with a sigh, sad and resigned. "So you should just be quiet and do what he says."

He gaped as she returned to her seat without another word or explanation. He wanted to wring the answers out of her and was just about to tell her so when he heard to the door open again and footsteps approach. The leader, Kohlurov, spared him a glance as he went to stand before the young woman. Steve held his breath as he saw her, eyes still closed, ignoring the other man's presence until he pulled his gun.

She heard him approach, smelled his cologne and the smoke from his cigars, but didn't open her eyes. Control was all she had, information her only bargaining chip, and right now Steve had made himself her only concern. It would be a cold day in Hell before she let anything good be wasted on her. She didn't remember hearing the shot but suddenly felt pain clawing into her thigh and couldn't catch herself as she rolled off the chain in agony.

"Get her up, no more games!" Kohlurov shouted to his men as he snatched up a short, black rod from one of the nearby tables. He turned back to see one of his men crumple to the floor, clutching his throat; the other blocked a sudden kick from the woman, caught her foot, and sent a quick jab to her bleeding thigh.

The pain made her whole leg go numb and she let her good leg collapse under her as she planted her palms on the floor and kicked out with her free foot. The man released her in favor of his now busted nose but she fell hard as Kohlurov swept out her arms and brought the rod down across her back.

Steve yelled for her to look out but it was useless as she hit the floor. He strained anew against the ties at his wrists as he watched her body suddenly arch off the floor, rigid as electricity coursed through her.

Kohlurov lifted the rod, allowing an instant of reprieve before shifting it to the hole in her thigh. He watched her mouth open in a scream but no sound came out and he finally switched off the rod and moved to stand where she could see him. "You see how much I _hate_ games!" He spit, motioning for his men to get themselves together. "Get on your knees." He ordered the quivering woman, watching coldly as she struggled to make her body obey.

Steve froze, afraid the man was going to shoot her in the head. What could he do? He hated just sitting there, but restrained as he was, he knew he didn't stand a chance unless he was free and had a gun of his own. _Danny, where are you?_ He cursed silently, knowing his partner wouldn't even be expecting to hear from him for another few hours. No one was looking for him because no one knew anything was wrong. He heard a sudden buzz and looked up to see the woman bent backward at a grotesque angle, trembling violently like a bizarre scene from an exorcism as the prod was held against her stomach.

"Stop! You're going to kill her!" Steve shouted angrily, not convinced that it wasn't the man's intention to do just that.

Once more the rod was switched off and its victim fell back with a strangled gasp. The man turned to his other prisoner, evaluating him with a dispassionate gaze. He snapped his fingers and the other two men descended on the woman like dogs on a bone. "You want me to stop, Commander? So you know where she has hidden it, then – she told you?"

Steve tore his eyes from the man who'd come to kneel before him to see one of the men catch hold of the young woman, keeping her upright as the other struck her repeatedly. A sharp slap brought his focus back.

"Eyes here, Commander; now answer my question."

"I don't know what she has of yours or where it is – she didn't tell me anything. But don't hurt her anymore, please. Just tell me what you want and we can work something out." He knew it was a pointless request, but right now, words were all he had. The man looked him over before lightly touching the tip of the rod to Steve's cheek. He was sure he was about to get a taste of the Taser, but instead, the Russian rose smoothly to his feet and turned away.

"I believe you, Commander, and you are free to go when we are done here. However, since you don't have what I need and you can't supply me with an alternative, I suggest you remain silent while I continue with my work."

Barely conscious, she saw Kohlurov turn on Steve and momentary panic got the better of her. She managed to block the next punch and caught the man's wrist, twisting it backward until he screamed and kicked her in the stomach. She tried to smash her head into the man behind her but he shifted his arm to wrap around her throat in a firm choke-hold. She struggled but couldn't dislodge his grip and he was too big to get enough force behind a good elbow thrust. She blinked away the encroaching spots but suddenly Kohlurov was before her, his eyes blazing with hatred as he struck her across the face with the rod. It hurt like mad but she forced her one good eye open just before the next blow.

Steve knew he was going to watch the young woman die. The leader continued to strike her even as the other man was slowly strangling her. Blood dripped from her torn, bluish lips, running over the man's arm and onto the floor as the leader finally let the second man back in to work her body with his remaining fist. Steve was no stranger to violence but there was something about the relentless intensity of this beating that chilled him to the core and made him want to empty his stomach. She seemed so defenseless – though clearly not helpless, considering how she'd fought back - but still very different from the men Steve was used to seeing in these circumstances. She fought back but only as a seemingly perfunctory gesture, as if playing a prearranged role or accepting an outcome that she knew was beyond her control. He hated the idea that she was content with defeat and hated even more the fact that he couldn't help her. To watch a woman, innocent or not, be beaten to death in front of him was an intolerable burden and he felt hot tears of rage finally spill down his cheeks as the woman was released and fell to the floor in a bloody heap. Her shirt was torn and splotched with dark red, one leg of her pants drenched as well and Steve was glad he couldn't see her disfigured face.

"Clear off that table and bring it over here. I want the x-ray equipment brought in here and – " Kohlurov trailed off as his eye caught a glimpse of something on the woman's body. Starring down at her for some time, he heard his men preparing the table but couldn't take his eyes off what he was seeing. "Clever girl." He purred, bending down to stroke her damp hair, trailing his fingers over her shoulders and down her back. "You clever girl." He repeated softly, motioning for her to be lifted onto the table.

Steve tensed, trying not to imagine what else they would do to her, but he couldn't help but watch as the leader turned her on her stomach and drew a long knife from the sheath at his hip.

Her shirt was cut down the back and the edges pushed aside, one of the lamps was brought close, revealing her secrets. She opened her left eye as much as the swelling would allow and watched Steve. Seeing his tears hurt her almost more than the beatings did, there was no way she would ever deserve tears from a man like that – cause them, maybe, but earn them? Never. No one had ever cried for her and she could scarcely recall shedding a tear for herself, much less someone else. She'd spent her life doing the job, and in retrospect, a job was all she had to show for the past twenty-eight years; defeat tasted far more bitter than her own blood, and both were threatening to drown her. Once more she focused, blinking until her gaze cleared, falling on the Navy SEAL, Steve, and as absurd as it was, she regretted not getting to see that smile.

Steve thought he was imagining things when he saw her eye open but she seemed to be staring right at him and he felt a deep sadness squeeze his heart. He didn't know her at all or know anything about her, but in that brief moment, he'd never felt closer to anyone. Maybe because he knew she was dying and he understood what it felt like. He didn't know what he'd say to her if he could, but anything would be better than having her look at him like that; such despair and hopelessness, as if all her pain was condensed into the few tears that tracked a pale path over her swollen nose. He raised himself higher on his knees, desperate to comfort her in even the smallest way, but her eye was now closed and there were no more tears.

A sharp glint of light on the knife blade drew Steve's attention back to the men around the table and he wanted to scream at them to leave her body alone.

Kohlurov starred and couldn't help but run his fingers across the magnificent design, so carefully inked onto the pale flesh beneath the torn fabric. Curves, lines, soft and strong like a living thing, swept gracefully across her shoulders and played to the planes of her muscles, anchored by the long lines of her spine. The exquisitely intricate tattoo stretched from the nape of her neck to the base of her slim hips and seemed to change and move even as the three men looked down on it. Images and pictures linked together with such perfection that you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began, causing the entire scene to shift even as you looked at it.

The knife was still raised in his hand but for an instant he faltered, regretting the need of what was to come. "There!" One of the men breathed as his finger hovered over an intricate whorl of smoke tendrils and cherry blossoms near her right hip.

Steve winced as he watched the blade cut into her flesh, not too deep, but precise and damaging. The leader worked with the intense concentration of a brain surgeon until finally releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Dipping his fingers into the wet hole, he removed his prize and accepted a rag to clean it off, cradling it in his palm as if it were fragile as a newborn.

Kohlurov studied it for a moment in satisfaction before retrieving a briefcase and carefully nestling it inside. As if waking from a spiritual trance, he blinked at his men before clasping each on the shoulder with a wide smile. "We're done here. Take the equipment, leave everything else."

Steve let his body slump back against the barrels, sure he was about to experience his own death. The Russian leader approached, still smiling, and tossed Steve's gun and keys onto his lap. "I am a man of my word, Commander McGarrett. You are free to go." He was mute with disbelief, sure that at any moment, the man would draw his own gun and put a bullet in him; but he watched the Russian bend over, cut the ties on his ankles and walk back across the room and still, the bullet didn't come.

The man did pause before the table, his eyes lingering once more on the tattoo before carefully turning the young woman over. His men all stood by the door, waiting in silence until one said something and they filed outside, but he remained a moment more before pulling his gun and shooting her once in the stomach.

The instant the door closed, Steve gained his feet and found something to cut the ties at his wrists, he was free in seconds but couldn't reach the table fast enough; already, blood was dripping onto the floor and he pressed one hand against the wound while checking for a pulse with the other, though his own heart was beating so fast it was hard to detect hers. He put an ear to her chest and heard a faint rhythm but her lungs were too congested; he tipped back her head and sealed his mouth over hers, inhaling as hard as he could and spitting out the blood that filled his mouth. He repeated the process twice more before checking her lungs again and was relieved to hear them functioning better. The Russians had taken his phone so he would have to keep her alive until they could reach a hospital. Slipping off his button down shirt, he folded it and placed it on the wound, tying the arms around her waist to keep it from shifting before he headed for the door, praying the men had gone because he didn't slow as he made his way back to his truck and drove it as close to the buildings entrance as he could. She lay just as he'd left her and Steve scooped her into his arms, he was sweating like crazy but she still felt too cold against him as he transferred her into the passenger seat.

Even pushing the truck to its considerable limits, and taking some creative shortcuts, it was another fifteen minutes before Steve spied the sign for the emergency entrance at Queens and spun the wheel hard to pull into the unloading area. He started calling for help as soon as he opened the door with the pale young woman draped limply in his arms. Hospital staff immediately swarmed around him and for an instant he fought as hands tried to pull her body from his grasp.

"Commander, we need to get her onto the gurney! Let go, we'll take it from here." But he didn't want to leave her and nearly broke the clipboard being shoved in his face over the attendants head. So many questions, so much he didn't even know, so little he could do to help but he didn't want to leave her alone for an instant – as if his touch or presence could keep her alive.

"She-she's got a GSW to the stomach and a through-and-through on her leg…"

"Okay, Commander, we'll handle it. Do you know her name and blood type?" That nurse still held the clipboard but she was now using it like a barricade to keep Steve from following the retreating crowd into the OR.

"I don't know her name…or… just – just help her, please!"

"We'll do everything we can but you have to stay out here! Are you hurt – Commander, look at me! Are you injured?" she was shaking his arm and he forced himself to focus.

"No, I'm fine. I'm not hurt but I need to use a phone. Is there a phone I can use?"

"Go out to the waiting room, there's a phone at the front desk. Make sure you get yourself cleaned up and we'll send someone to update you as soon as possible."

Thankfully, the waiting room wasn't full and he nodded to the man behind the desk before reaching for the phone. "Danny –thank God – listen, forget the warehouses and meet me at Queens right away! No, I'm fine, just – no, they're fine too, just get here, okay?" He hung up and just leaned against the desk for a moment, suddenly feeling exhausted as he dialed Chin and updated him on the situation. "Get a CSI team over to that building, I want the whole area processed, Okay? Everything - and have Kono get a trace started on those vans. Yeah, call me when you get something – no, he's on his way over here. Thanks, bye"

"Sir, are you alright?" The attendant asked, eyes wide. "Do you feel like you're going to pass out?"

Steve put down the receiver, noticing the blood on his hands and the man behind the desk still waiting for him to answer. "I'm fine, is there a bathroom I can use?"

"Right behind you, Pal, second door on the right."

He waited in a stall until the other man left before coming out and bracing himself against the sink, breathing slowly and deeply until his heart quieted and the tightness in his chest began to lessen. It took another few minutes before he looked in the mirror, both angry and sick at the blood he saw on his hands. It covered his arms to the elbow and soaked the front of his t-shirt, there was even a smear of it on his cheek and a trail down his chin. Steve wasn't prone to throwing up at such sights but he looked again and, coupled with the memories, felt like he could empty his stomach right there. An image of her staring at him from the table as the Russian cut into her imprinted itself on his eyelids and he splashed his face with cold water until it was washed away.

It was almost an hour before Danny reached the Emergency Room but he didn't see Steve anywhere. "Excuse me; I'm here to see one of your regulars, Commander McGarrett."

"He isn't a patient here, but I believe he's in the men's room; second door on the right."

Danny pushed open the door and stepped inside. Steve sat on the floor across from the sinks, arms crossed on top of his knees, head down. "Steve…?" The other man looked up and slowly stood. "Holy – what happened to you! Shouldn't you be on an operating table – what is this?"

"Relax, Danny, It isn't mine. Can you bring me a spare shirt from the car?" His tone was cold and detached, mirroring the hollowness he felt inside. Only the anger kept him warm, the promise of revenge like a smoldering ember buried deep in his core.

"Of course I can. Of course I can bring you a spare shirt from the car because, clearly, that isn't next year's fashion statement you're wearing there, so I ask again – what happened? Talk to me, Babe – " He trailed off as the SEAL suddenly stepped closer and dropped his forehead onto his shoulder.

"I think she's gonna die, Danny…." Steve managed before his throat got so tight he felt he could scarcely breathe. He felt the other man's arms instantly tighten around him and was grateful for the silence. He didn't understand why he felt so concerned for her and knew he couldn't explain it any better to his partner. A deep, hot rage boiled up inside him and Steve swore to himself over and over that he would find the men responsible.

Danny squeezed harder as he tried to make sense of his partners' words. Catherine? Or Mary; Steve hadn't been in contact with his mom for some time but it seemed unlikely that Doris would show up now. Who could be dying? He couldn't really think of anyone else that fell into the 'she' department that could get such a reaction out of Steve. He heard the door start to open but kicked it shut, hoping the guy would take a hint and find another lavatory. They stood, unmoving, for several minutes until Danny felt the other man relax enough to loosen his grip. Sticking his head out the door, he got a nurses attention and sent them out for a clean shirt before turning back to Steve. All the emotion had bled out of him and he just leaned against the wall with that thousand yard stare so Danny grabbed a handful of paper towels and ran them under the faucet to get rid of the last traces of blood on the man's neck and arms.

The nurse was back with the shirt and Steve tore off the one he was wearing, grabbing the towels from Danny to wipe away the blood on his chest. He felt better with the clean shirt and squeezed Danny's shoulder gratefully.

"Hang on, Babe, you missed a spot." He saw Steve wince as he pressed more paper towels into the blood on his head. "Wait, this actually belongs to you? Let me see!" It was a shallow scrape just behind Steve's left ear but he wanted it looked at.

"It's fine, Danny, thanks. Let's go grab a chair and some coffee."

Danny was surprisingly quiet as Steve finished telling him what had happened. They had been sitting in the waiting room for more than two hours and it had taken nearly that long for Steve to get the whole story out. He didn't understand how this girl could have such a powerful effect on his friend and wondered if Steve was just projecting his grief over losing Catherine onto this new woman who seemed a blank canvas. "Well," He said at length. "We should be hearing from Chin and Kono soon, so let's just wait and see what they say."

"Commander McGarrett?" A nurse called out and Steve was on his feet in a second.

"Yes! How is she?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry. Doctor Andrews wanted me to come find you, he'd like to talk to you about the young woman you brought in earlier." She led the two men back into the ER and guided them into a separate room, pulling aside the privacy curtain before closing the door behind her.

Danny swore under his breath when he saw the young woman, though she really didn't look like one any more. Her face was badly swollen and there was hardly a place that wasn't bruised or cut. There was a brace on her nose and another around her neck, both arms were striped with bandages and he caught a glimpse of her damaged ribs – mostly deep reds and purples – before the doctor was pulling the sheet up to her shoulders. From what Danny had seen, he was surprised the man hadn't kept pulling it up to cover her head.

Steve had quickly found a chair and had his head in his hands, breathing deeply as if he was on the verge of passing out – or killing someone. The doctor waited until he seemed to gather himself before starting the introduction.

"Commander, I'm Dr. Joel Andrews and I understand you brought in this young woman, what can you tell me about her?"

Steve felt Danny's hands come to rest on his shoulders and made himself tell the story again, cutting it down to the important information for the doctor's benefit. "How is she?" he dared to ask when he'd finished.

The doctor passed a hand through his hair, clearly reluctant to verbalize the details of his patient's condition. "Well, considering what you've just told me, she's hanging in there. The bullet in her chest perforated the stomach and caused quite a bit of tissue damage, we've repaired the stomach lining and are in the process of replacing all the blood she lost," He pointed up to the IV unit and the two bags of dark plasma that hung from it. "There won't be any lasting damage to her thigh but she'll probably need physical therapy. We wrapped her broken ribs and stitched the incision on her back; as you can see there's quite a bit of swelling on her face but she's lucky that none of the bones were broken. At this point it's going to depend on her, Commander, that's what I'll tell you. She's in great physical shape so all things considered, she may be awake in a few days. I'll have a report written up to better document the other injuries and have it – "

"Wait, there's _more_?" Danny asked, puzzled. Was there anything left that could go wrong for this poor girl? He saw Steve tense up again and wondered how much more information he could handle.

Dr. Andrews chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry, I meant _past_ injuries. Right now, Detective, you can consider her to be in critical – but stable – condition."

"Okaaay, but what kind of _past_ injuries are we talking about?"

"Well, there is extensive scaring and tissue damage over most of her body. I can't say for sure what the cause might be until I do some more scans but she seems to have undergone multiple surgeries of some kind."

"Like plastic surgery?"

"No, more like she had the same areas cut open repeatedly over a long period - years, basically."

"Like a human 'Operation' game?"

"A crude comparison, Detective, but in this case, quite accurate. I'll give you two a few minutes with her before we move her to the ICU. Just call one of the nurses when you're done."

Danny nodded and shook the man's hand as he left. Steve hadn't said a word in a while and Danny gave his shoulders another squeeze. "You okay, Babe?"

Steve huffed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I guess." In fact he was still trying to digest what the doctor had said about her previous injuries and he couldn't make sense of it. "Go grab your kit from the car and we'll get her prints over to Phong when we get back to the Palace." He stood as Danny left the room and slowly reached for the woman's hand, careful not to touch the IV line. "I need you to keep fighting, okay? We're gonna get these guys and I'm gonna make sure they pay for this, but you just hang in there for me…" He wished he knew her name – wished he knew everything about her.

Six days passed with little change and Steve was able to spend less and less time at the hospital; Dr. Andrews had decided to induce a coma to give the woman's ribs more time to heal. An intensive search had been under way for the Russians but without more information, there wasn't much more to do than monitoring the outgoing transportation. All leads on Kohlurov and the two black vans had run out three days ago and the trail began to grow cold; he nurtured his anger diligently but managed to channel the energy into more useful tasks. Phong couldn't find a match on any of the databases for the young woman's finger prints and they'd even sent a sketch to one of Joe's contacts in the FBI, but their mystery girl remained just that.

"Hey, Danny, I'm heading over to the hospital. See you tomorrow." Steve called, tapping lightly on his partner's office door.

"Hold up, Steve. When's the last time you slept in a _bed_ or ate at a _table_?" Danny asked accusingly, coming out from behind his desk and crossing his arms. "Why don't I take you for some surf-and-turf, we'll grab some longboards and just relax for a couple of hours." He was glad to see the man was almost back to normal and if it weren't for his insatiable need to spend every spare moment at that woman's side, Danny could almost imagine the whole incident had never happened. But Steve was wearing himself out, as usual, and Danny was determined to see he got some rest.

Steve hesitated, instantly wanting to refuse the offer in favor of staying near the young woman, but the look in the shorter man's eyes told him he couldn't get off the hook easily. "Okay, you win!" He chuckled as a triumphant grin flashed across Danny's face. "But I'll meet you at seven, there's some stuff I have to take care of first." He ignored the blond brows that arched in suspicion.

"Oh, what, is that supposed to be some secret code for _'I'm going to the hospital anyway and don't want my partner to know'_?"

"I just want to check on her, Danny. I'll see you at seven." _Non-negotiable, Pal, I'm going!_ Steve thought firmly, though he understood why his partner couldn't accept his connection to the mystery girl.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Fine, you big softy, but if you are even _one_ minute late, I'm gonna have Chin take out a restraining order against you in her name!"

"Good evening, Commander, back so soon?"

Steve smiled. "Hi Gladys, I just came to sit with her for a little while. Has there been any change?"

The older woman patted his hand fondly and rose from behind the nurse's station, walking with him towards the young woman's room. "It's sweet of you to spend so much time with her, Commander, and actually she did wake up for a few minutes – "

Steve stopped her with a grip that was unintentionally firm. "She woke up – why didn't Dr. Andrews call me?"

"Listen, there was a nurse there, taking blood, when she came around and he said she went a little crazy – pulled out her IV's and attacked him!"

Steve angrily rubbed a hand over his face, he knew he should have been there for her. "Is she alright?"

"Is _she_ alright? Commander, you've got quite a fighter there. They got her sedated pretty quickly but she broke that nurse's wrist and nearly brained him with the crash cart!" Gladys laughed, slapping her thigh. "I didn't like that new boy anyways."

Steve wasn't so amused. Of course she would put up a fight, the last thing she would remember was being beaten half to death and cut open! He couldn't blame her at all for reacting the way she had but Andrews should have called him immediately. "I should have been there." He admitted out loud.

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself – or her! – you're here now." Gladys assured him with a smile and a light swat on his arm. "You go on in, the sedative should be wearing off any time now."

Grateful for the old woman's comfort over the past week, Steve bent and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, earning him another swat.

"What did I tell you about my blood pressure, Boy? You go on, now, buzz if you need anything."

There was a peculiar kind of quiet that seemed to inhabit all hospital rooms, and Steve had never been fond of it; half funereal acceptance and half breathless expectation. He always felt the need to go for a jog or swim after leaving, something to convince himself that he had a firm hold on life. Settling into his usual chair, Steve pulled it close enough to the bed that he could easily reach her hand and frowned when he saw the handcuffs restraining her to the bed rails. He watched her for some time before taking her hand between his, surprised to feel a chill in her fingertips when she had usually felt so warm. There were fresh bruises where she'd pulled out the IV's but the ones on her face had faded to a deep yellows and mauves and she looked almost normal. "I still don't know your name." He sighed, wishing she would wake up as he leaned his head against the soft blanket that covered her. "But I'm gonna stay right here until you tell me." He promised and suddenly felt her fingers curl around his wrist with surprising strength. Steve lifted his head and found her watching him, relief, more than suspicion, clouding her dark eyes.

"It's really good to see you awake, how are you feeling?" He couldn't help the relieved grin that tugged at his mouth.

"There's that smile…" She whispered with a small grin of her own before closing her eyes.

"What? Hey, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?" He didn't know what she'd meant about the smile but wondered if she was suffering any memory loss. "Do you remember who I am?"

"I wish you were the only thing I could remember, Steve." She moved to raise a hand to her face but was stopped. "Mind taking these off?"

"Yeah, of course." Steve fished out his spare key and released her, settling on the side of her bed so she could see him with having to move her head.

"Thank you…I didn't want to hurt that guy but I thought he – "

"Hey, don't worry about that, okay?" Steve shushed her. "He's gonna be fine." He wanted to tell her how he'd experienced the same thing many times before but something stopped him. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many blanks that needed to be filled in.

"So…you saved my life, huh?" She was watching him again, measuring his reactions.

"I'd like to talk to you about what happened at the warehouse, if you feel up to it."

She moved a hand to cover her stomach, as if their words would cause further damage, and lifted the other over her eyes. "Sure, why not. Ask away."

He noticed the change in her tone and sensed that she was trying to distance herself from the memories by distancing herself from him. Thick walls, short answers, converting fear into anger – he knew the steps well and had practiced them many times. "Tell me your name." It wasn't at all what he'd intended to ask but there it was, all the same.

The hand over her eyes clenched before lifting to press against her forehead, but she could only stare at the wall, unmoving, lest she disturb the teetering mountain of emotion that had suddenly formed inside her. "It's been – " Her voice hitched when she finally made herself answer him. " _So_ long…since anyone…" Hot tears left stinging trails down her face but she couldn't finish.

Steve looked away, shaken, wondering _how_ long it really had been. Her fist was still clenched and he slowly took it in his hands, working his fingers over the white knuckles until she relaxed enough to let him lace his fingers through hers. In some ways he could understand what she was going through; it seemed, while he was tracking Victor Hess, and later, Wo Fat that he was often so alone and sometimes wanted nothing more than for someone to say his name or offer a comforting touch.

"Susan," She eventually managed to whisper.

"Susan," Steve repeated, surprised anew at how protective he felt of her. "You're safe now."

"You caught him? His men, too?" The old suspicion was back at full force.

"Not yet, but we will. I've got HPD and my entire team looking for these guys – more information would help, though." He glanced at his watch, it was a quarter past six. Maybe she could write down what she remembered…He hated to leave her now!

"Steve, what happened after I passed out on the table – what did they do?"

This time it was he that chose to stare into space. Steve saw it all in perfect detail, as if it were playing on the TV above them. She asked again and he cleared his throat, embarrassed for her. "They cut something…out of your back…then Kohlurov shot you." He made it as vague as possible and turned to look at her, wondering how she'd take it. Again she was staring blankly at the wall, her face showing neither fear nor surprise. He wanted to say more but a nurse came in for a check-up and Steve excused himself to give her some privacy, it was time to meet Danny anyway.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Susan." He promised firmly.

She glanced nervously at the nurse but smiled when he said her name and he smiled back. "Thank you, Steve, for everything."

Susan almost asked him to stay but her solitary habits spurned the idea, despite her discomfort.

"I can get you something if you're in pain." The nurse offered as she checked her blood pressure and temperature.

"No, thank you." She wanted to get up and leave but her body was still beyond cooperation. Everything felt stiff and tight, her back especially, was hot and painful but she needed to stay alert. "How is the other nurse…what's his name, I'd like to apologize."

"Oh, he'll be alright. I don't know his name, though, I've never seen him before – must have just started."

"Really? Is he still here? I'd really like to talk to him." Susan already knew that the likelihood of that man being an actual nurse was slim to none and felt confident that Kohlurov was tying up loose ends.

"Don't worry about that now, Hon. You just rest and I'll have Dr. Andrews come see if you're up to some supper tonight."

Susan relaxed when the nurse finally left, preferring to be alone, even if she wasn't very self-sufficient at the moment. Nothing like this had ever happened before and she was more than a little ashamed that she'd allowed things to get so out of hand with the Russian. He'd been amicable at first, just business as usual, but when the surgeon failed to show after an hour, Susan began to suspect that Kohlurov was after more than what he was due. He'd tried to be reasonable at first, trying to convince her to hand over the rest of the Intel she was transporting – he would make it so worth her while! – But she'd shut down at once, knowing all the money she could imagine wouldn't hide her from her other employers if she gave them up. Next, Kohlurov had threatened her with everything painful he could imagine, some of it so ridiculously outlandish that she had to laugh at his absurdity – but after that, his words became actions and she began accepting the probability that she'd die in that crummy warehouse. But then she'd heard a commotion outside and a tall, dark-haired man was carried inside with Kohlurov's men reporting that he'd been spying through the window and was some kind of law enforcement. The Russian had been unconcerned, which immediately made her suspicious of the stranger, and continued his interrogation until his phone rang and he stepped out to answer it just as the spy began to wake.

Susan smiled softly, thinking of Steve; she could sense how protective he was of her and though she didn't understand why, she was grateful for his concern. Somehow he'd inserted himself under her skin without her notice, searching out long buried emotions and feelings that she'd ceased to believe still existed within her. The previous display of those unused emotions made her cringe with embarrassment, it reminded her of a little used muscle suddenly tremoring under an unexpected weight that was beyond its capacity to support. After an hour or so, she finally ran out of things to berate herself for and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"This would have been easier on us both if you were still unconscious." The unexpected voice came from a slender man in scrubs as he shut the door soundlessly behind him.

Susan opened her eyes and instantly recognized him as the nurse who'd been there when she awoke the first time, his intentions as clear now as they had been earlier. He held up his left arm, now encased in a white cast, as if displaying her handiwork; there were a few scratches on his other arm but it was obvious that he was in a far more capable condition than she. "Kohlurov took what was his, I owe him nothing more." She explained evenly, glancing down to locate the call button.

"I will kill anyone who answers that call. Surely you don't want that." He moved to her side, examining the machines she was connected to before reaching into his pocket for a small tube. "If you fight me, I will put the handcuffs back on; if you call out, I will fracture your larynx. Understand?"

Susan moved her hands back to her lap, her eyes catching Steve's phone number written on the update board by the door but the Russian now stood between her and the phone on her bedside table. "What does he want?"

"I was only told to retrieve it – not what it is or how he plans to use it. " He answered coolly as he pulled on a pair of gloves before squeezing a small amount of gel from the tube onto his fingertips. He reached for her and she jerked back. "Don't do that."

His voice was soft but the warning was like ice water. Susan gripped the bedrails as his fingers smeared the gel down the length of her throat, taking a moment to massage it into the tender skin. Next he took out a glass bottle and syringe, measuring out the clear liquid with practiced precision. She flinched as he injected her knees, ankles, elbows, and wrists, the instant burn followed by a freezing numbness was all too familiar to her. Lidocaine. She wouldn't feel whatever he was going to do to her but she also lost feeling in her limbs, as if they were asleep. Already, the loss of feeling was wrapped around her throat and breathing seemed to become a voluntary action and, as if she wasn't defenseless enough, he injected the remainder of the drug into her tongue before clipping the heart monitor onto his own finger. Susan began to hyperventilate, unable to feel the air move in her lungs, her chest and stomach muscles twitching reflexively as her dead limbs stayed frozen and useless.

The Russian studied her with clinical curiosity for a moment as the drug took full effect; he reached out his good hand to cover her nose, watching her eyes widen, imagining the feeling of suffocation. With deft movements, he rolled her onto her back, unconcerned with straitening the limbs twisted under her or protecting her broken ribs.

Susan gaped like a beached fish, struggling with all her might to vocalize the sharp pain that flared across her chest and stomach as she was rolled over. The sudden flow of cool air across her back and hips didn't concern her nearly as much as the prick of a blade at her shoulder and the line of fire that followed it towards her spine. She quickly lost count of how many times he cut her but finally, with an angry curse, the man turned off all the machines before leaving the room. Instantly, Susan twisted her right shoulder until her hand flopped between the rails of the bed, knuckles bumping across the bedside table. She focused on her fingers, willing them to move and feeling a slight jerk as her pinky straightened out; her ring finger was stiffer but still moved enough to nudge the phone and finally knock the receiver from its cradle. She didn't know what time it was nor could she see the dial pad but still prayed she'd gotten the number right, and someone would be there to hear it, as the faint sound of a dial tone switched to ringing on the other end of the line.

Returning shortly with a wheelchair, the Russian immediately noticed the displaced receiver and returned it with a disappointed sigh. "I see we'll have to continue this in a more private setting. But again, if you try to alert anyone, I will kill them all." He was tempted to punish her right then, but knew that if she _had_ managed to alert anyone, he was better off to wait until they were safely away before venting his displeasure. Kohlurov would approve, of course, more interested in results than the methods used to obtain them but even he would understand the necessity of keeping her alive until they had what they were after. Channeling his displeasure into brisk, efficient movements, the man pulled one of the blankets up to her neck and pushed his hands under her arms, flipping her onto her back and gathering up the sturdy fabric around her like a crude sack. Dragging her off the bed and into the wheelchair, he settled another blanket over her lap and pulled a sanitary mask over her mouth before guiding the chair out the door and down the hall.

Danny was right about Steve needing a night off, as much as he felt guilty about admitting it. They enjoyed a leisurely supper before going back to Steve's house for a few beers on the beach. It was warm and quiet, both men content to just sit and let the day's troubles recede with the tide. Danny left around midnight and Steve made a beeline for his bed as soon as the silver Camaro left the driveway. He was dead tired but the comfort of the bed wasn't even enough to turn his mind off; no matter what he did to distract himself, his thoughts always came back to Susan: watching those men beat her, seeing the look of mocking defiance in her dark eyes – the same look he often imagined gracing his face – her blood swathing his hands like a pair of warm gloves, her first words to him…and her last. Danny would be upset if he knew, but it was thinking about Susan that finally sent Steve into a deep, restful sleep.

The following day was Saturday, and Steve's day off. He slept late into the morning until a constant ringing filtered into his mind and he forced an eye open only to immediately shut it against the blinding Hawaiian sun that was pouring into his bedroom. He liked sleeping in the sun and wondered if he could muster enough willpower to haul himself outside to the hammock, he could feel a cool breeze blowing through the open window and almost dozed off again, but the ringing was still there and Steve suddenly realized it was his phone.

"McGarrett," His voice rasped and he swallowed a few times. He heard nothing but silence for a long moment and he pulled the phone away in annoyance to check the number. He saw the hospital name and came instantly awake, legs swinging off the bed as he pressed the phone to his ear to hear better. "Susan, is that you? What's wrong?" The sound of heavy, rapid breathing was barely discernable before a light thump sounded, followed by the softest of groans. "Are you okay…you're still at the hospital, right?" He didn't know why she wouldn't talk to him but even without word, he knew something was wrong. "Okay, Susan, I'm coming right now, just hang in there!" He nearly fell headlong down the stairs, trying to get his pants on as he went, and paused only to shove his feet into a pair of flip flops and grab his keys. "Can you reach the call button, Susan?" But the line had gone dead and he punched redial. "Pick up, pick up…come on!" He cursed himself for sleeping so long, afraid that, once again, he wouldn't be there for her. The road was busy and he put on his siren rather than stop for the red light; the short drive seemed an eternity but he managed to pull into the parking garage at a reasonable speed. _What could have happened?_ He wondered as he tried the redial again and got no answer.

Steve pulled into an empty slot and was making a beeline for the entrance when he spotted a black van that instantly reminded him of one from the warehouse. He spotted a man in a nurse's uniform pushing someone in a wheel chair a moment later and knew it was them by the cast on the man's arm and the blanket wrapped around the body in the wheelchair. Someone was trying to take Susan! "Five-0! Stop right there, let me see your hands!" The man stopped but didn't turn or raise his hands so Steve angled to his right, getting a better fix on the man. He finally saw her slumped in the wheel chair, eyes tightly shut and hands clasped over her stomach, then he saw the knife being held at her throat.

"Drop the knife, Man, or I drop you!" Instinct told him to fire and a hole appeared on the man's forehead just as he was jerking Susan's head up to expose her throat. Kicking the blade away, Steve knelt in front of the shuttering young woman and pressed his fingers against a small, bleeding cut on her neck. She didn't seem entirely coherent and he gritted his teeth as he discovered the puncture marks on her arms and wrists. "Did he hurt you?" He wanted to apologize for not being there, but instead checked her pulse and made a visual sweep of the garage before pulling her up into his arms and heading back to his truck. "Hang in there, okay? I'm gonna get you some place safe." He soothed in answer to her groan as he carefully buckled her in.

Pulling into his driveway, Steve was glad that none of his neighbors where out and about as he hurriedly opened the front door and jogged back to his truck for the now unconscious woman. He laid her on the sofa called his partner.

"Steven, so help me, this is your day off and if you say you are at that hospital –" Danny paused, listening to what had happened. "Is she okay, you want me to kidnap a doctor or something? Yeah, okay, Gladys, I got it. I'll be over as soon as I get the supplies…what? Okay, I'll send Chin over for the body – yes, I'll have Max on it right away – would you just shut up and let me go, already!" Danny tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the drive-thru, wondering if being with McGarrett, the trouble magnet, was really the best place for her. "They deserve each other…they're both trouble magnets." He mused as he headed for the hospital. "Maybe they'll, like, cancel each other out. That'd be nice."

He always kept a stash of basic emergency supplies in the pantry and Steve didn't waste a moment in unpacking them now as he briefly examined Susan. Her throat was a little red and there was blood and drool on her chin, he would need to get her back on an IV once Danny arrived. More blood stained the front of her hospital gown and Steve pulled the blanket over her hips before lifting the ruined fabric; the thick pad of gauze beneath was soaked through and he carefully pealed it away to reveal an angry red, nickel sized hole just to the right of her navel, the stitches torn. The skin around the wound was still heavily bruised and slightly swollen but looked clear of infection. He didn't have any clean dressings so he grabbed a clean washcloth and held it firmly against the leaking hole.

Danny arrived about twenty minutes later to find his partner seated on the coffee table, hands red as he tried to stabilize the young woman. "Oh, Steve, come on, look at her! She needs a hospital, with trained professionals – not a Navy SEAL with a field kit from under the kitchen sink!"

"Yeah, Danny, let's bring her back to the hospital because she got such good care the first time around! The Russians found her pretty quick and it's obvious they aren't done with her - "

"Then take her to Trippler! I'm sure the military would be very interested in a group of Russians running around the island, kidnapping girls and cutting stuff out of them!"

"No, Danny – that's exactly why I _don't_ want them, or anybody else, to know where she is until we get this straightened out. Besides, we don't know enough about who's after her or what kind of connections they may have…for now, this is the safest place for Susan."

Danny dropped the two large duffle bags he'd brought from the hospital and came to stand beside his partner. "Okay, listen to me, for a second. This is not like finding a hurt puppy on the side of the road or taking in a stray cat! She's a human, Steven, and you can't just go and make up a name for her, okay! It's illegal – somewhere –I'm sure."

"What are you talking about? Her name _is_ Susan, she told me last night, before I met you for supper."

"She say anything else? Like, maybe, who'd want to cut her up like man sushi – well _wo_ man sushi?"

"No, she didn't say anything else…nothing that would help us, anyway. Here, take over while I get the IV hooked up, then we'll move her up stairs." Steve replaced his hand with Danny's before grabbing the duffle bags and taking them upstairs. He could put her in the guest room, but it was at the far end of the hall from the master bedroom and it didn't have its own bath. He decided to put her in his room and began setting up the IV pole and hooking on one bag of fluids and one bag of plasma, if Gladys had sent it then he would use it. He returned to the living room and saw Danny's other hand on her forehead.

She's getting colder, is that normal?"

"Is she still losing blood?"

Danny took a peak under the washcloth. "No, it looks like it's stopped."

"Let's get her upstairs and I'll take her temperature." Steve supported her shoulders and let Danny follow him up the stairs. "In my room, right on this side of the bed. Can you get that blanket off her?"

"Whoa," Danny caught the blanket with his foot and pulled it away, revealing a large blood stain across the back of it. "I think you missed a spot, Steve!"

"Don't drop her! Just hold on – here." Steve sat down on the bed and pulled her up against him, feeling the blood seep into his shirt. "I'll lean her forward, get that pillow and put it against her chest." Between the two of them, they managed to settle her at an angle so as not to put too much pressure on either her ribs or her stomach. "Okay, get me all the gauze you can find and see if there's a suturing kit in there!" Steve directed as he unfastened the hospital gown and pulled it down around her shoulders.

"I take it all those weren't there before?" Danny observed, setting the supplies out where Steve could reach them easily.

Steve just shook his head, concentrating on stitching the deepest of the cuts. There were at least six new incisions across her back and he made himself take a breath and let the anger still the tremors in his fingers. He didn't want to imagine her, trapped in that hospital room, with someone trying to skin her. Could she fight back? Did she call for him? Steve shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Danny, I need you to get that IV going right now. I already attached the needle, just find a vein around the inside of her elbow and tape it down once it's in."

"This is a little bit out of my league, Babe, I can't find – "

"Here," Steve paused his work and wrapped his fingers tightly around her upper arm, squeezing as hard as he could until a vein began to stand out. "Angle it up a bit, good, now slide it in…okay. Can you get the plasma going in her other arm?"

Danny wiped his forehead. "Sure thing, that last one was such a piece of cake. I'm kinda kicking myself now, you know, I never got my first aid patch in the boy scouts…and all they wanted me to do was splint an arm…that wasn't even really broken!" The detective finished with the second line and noticed the puncture marks. "Are those from the guy at the hospital? Do you know what he injected?"

Steve grimaced around the needle between his lips as he tied off the last stitch and started on the next cut. "Yes, they are, and no, I don't…maybe a muscle relaxant…so she couldn't fight back? How many more bags of plasma do we have?"

"Just that one...you think we'll need more?" Danny asked, leaning forward to inspect the damage. "Nice tat."

"Not anymore. See if Gladys put her medical paperwork in one of those duffels, or see if you can find the blood type on the bag." Steve was working as fast as he could but he was afraid she was losing too much blood too fast.

"Okay, it says A positive, is that good?"

Steve nodded. "That's very good. I'm A positive as well so if it comes down to it – "

"Let's…just see how she does." Danny cut him off, he would rob a blood bank before he'd let Steve do a transfusion under these conditions.

"There!" Steve sighed unhappily, leaning back against the headboard nearly an hour later just as his partner reentered the room, snapping his phone closed. "That's the last one. Grab me another washcloth and a bottle of peroxide."

"Chin said they got the hospital wrapped up – didn't find any ID on the nurse but Max found an empty bottle of Lidocaine and a syringe in the guy's pocket. They have the van and are going over it now; they're also pulling the surveillance from around the area to see if they get any more leads. Want me to have Kono bring over some clothes and stuff for her?"

"Nah, I'll make do for today. Max can take a look at her tomorrow and we'll get things arranged a little better." Steve took the Peroxide and caught Danny's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Thanks for everything today; I couldn't have done it without you, Pal."

Danny smiled and squeezed the man's hand. "Any time, Babe. Want me to stay the night, just in case? Chin and Kono are headed back to the Palace and Grace is with Rachel this weekend."

"No, we'll be fine. Just help them hold down the fort for me and let me know if they get anything from those surveillance cameras. I'll call you tomorrow." Steve assured him and smiled as the man left. "Hey, lock the door on your way out!"

"You got it!"

Steve sat in the silence for a while, letting his body unwind. It was beginning to get dark outside and he felt he could crash right then. Finishing up with the peroxide, he collected the remaining supplies and slowly moved from the bed, stretching when he was finally upright. Danny had locked the front door but Steve went down to turn off the lights and grab a quick bite, making sure the alarm was set before heading back upstairs and shucking off his ruined pants and shirt. A hot shower added to his drowsiness and he spent a few minutes rummaging through his dresser before remembering what he was looking for. An oversized shirt would do for Susan, just for the night, before he remembered the IV's were already in place. In the end he shut his eyes, cut the hospital gown off her and covered her with a spare comforter, rolling her onto her back and hooking up an oxygen cannula for good measure. He had planned on sleeping on the floor but Susan took up far less than half the king size bed and comfort quickly won out as he lowered himself onto the mattress and tucked her hand under his arm, so he'd feel it if she tried to move. It was only around eight o'clock but he drifted off as if it were midnight.

Steve woke feeling rested, though it was still early morning, and for a moment thought it was Catherine's small, warm hand that rested against his arm. He rolled over with a smile, ready to steal a kiss before she awoke; in an instant, the sight of the IV lines, the hospital bags, and the petite, bruised face caused the events of the previous day to wash over him and Steve collapsed back onto the pillows with a sigh. He was suddenly tired all over again. The next few days would be difficult but Steve had already decided to have his team take alternating shifts of keeping an eye on Susan and continuing their regular duties at work. He was reaching for his phone to call Danny when it rang and he answered, wondering – not for the first time – if the blond detective was psychic where the SEAL was concerned.

"Hey, I was just about to call you." Steve quietly moved out into the hall. "She's still out of it – yeah, for a few days…hey, that's what I was going to call you about: We need to set up shifts for staying with her. At least until she's up and can give us information on Kohlurov….Okay, great, send Chin over when he's ready, thanks." Steve spent the next few minutes changing out the empty IV bags and checking the dressings on Susan's back, taking the opportunity to exchange the comforter for one of his over-sized t-shirts before reconnecting the needles in her arms. He took a quick shower and got dressed for work, finishing his breakfast just as Chin knocked at the front door. "Hey, come on in." He locked the door and led the way up stairs. "She probably won't wake up at all but call me if she does – it won't help to see strangers, considering what she's been through. There's gauze and tape in one of those duffels if you need to change any of the bandages, so, you know, just hang out; help yourself to the TV and whatever's in the fridge."

"Okay, Boss, I think I can handle being a couch potato for the day. I'll make sure nothing happens to her."

Two days passed uneventfully and Steve had just turned onto his street when Danny called. "Come on, Danno, you're getting paid to bum around my house for the day, what's –" He trailed off, recognizing the panic in his partner's voice. "She locked you in the bathroom? Danny, she hardly weighs more than Kono, what happened? – Yeah, I know she can handle herself…no, I didn't tell you…she's been practically unconscious for three days, Danny, I thought you could – never mind, I just pulled in." Steve hung up, both amused that an injured young woman could get the drop on his partner and worried that Susan may have hurt herself in the process. He unlocked the door and turned on the lights, careful not to be taken by surprise. "Susan," He called loudly, praying she hadn't left the house. "It's Steve; you're in my house, okay, you're safe here. He cleared the first floor and moved up the stairs, his instincts a millisecond too late to avoid the foot that suddenly swung at his head as he reached the top. He felt a hard follow-up blow delivered to his kidneys and spun, catching another glancing jab to his face as he tackled the young woman as gently as possible. "Calm down, Susan, it's me!" Her dark eyes were wide and unfocussed as she writhed in his grasp, nearly head-butting him when he leaned in too close. "Hey, it's Steve, just relax, you're okay. _Calm down_!" He shifted one of his legs to pin both of hers until she finally went limp beneath him.

"I…I'm sorry, Steve – I didn't know where…and this guy…was holding me down!" she explained breathlessly, relief replacing the adrenalin in her limbs. Her thigh and back began to throb in time to her racing heart and she wished Steve wouldn't grip her wrists so tight. Susan had woken up about twenty minutes before to a soft bed and a strange man rummaging around a simply decorated bedroom. The last thing she could remember with certain clarity was being smuggled out of the hospital; she'd heard angry voices and a gunshot but what came afterwards she couldn't be sure of. There were hazy images of Steve, the feeling of being in a vehicle, more voices and fresh pain; it all stirred around her head like cold soup as she flexed her arms and legs, grateful for the range of movement she discovered. Common sense told her she wasn't a guest of the Russians because she was far too comfortable – considering the circumstances – but as the blond man passed through her field of vision once more, Susan decided she didn't have the luxury of blind faith and dumb luck. If she wasn't in control of the environment then she needed to remove the threat or find a new environment, but considering her current condition, she quickly chose the first option. When the man had moved into another room, a bathroom by the sound of it, she'd sprung off the bed and was reaching for the door handle when the man appeared with a look of surprise. Instinctively, she brought a fist to his nose, shoved him backward, and shut the door, securing it with a chair -

"Hey, Steve, if you survived the ninja attack, can you _please_ open the door now?" A very irritated Danny called out.

Susan looked from Steve to the bedroom. "He a friend of yours?" Good Lord, this hard floor was _not_ helping her back.

Steve laughed and carefully helped her stand. "That's Danny, my partner at 5-0."

"Oh, I…locked him in the bathroom." She admitted, more focused on compartmentalizing the pain than feeling sorry for defending herself.

"I would have paid money to see that – "

"Steven, so help me, if you breathe one word of this to anyone, I will personally have you court marshaled and shot! Now open the freaking door!"

Steve tried to keep a straight face as he un-wedged the chair from under the door handle and released his fuming partner, but one look at the bloody tissue Danny was holding to his nose and he lost it. "You're a sad excuse for a detective, you know that, Pal?"

"You're a sad excuse for a caring human being, Steven!" Danny shot him a murderous look as he went over to where Susan was perched on the edge of the bed. Seeing her conscious for the first time, Danny was more than a little curious about her but knew his over-protective partner wouldn't take kindly to an impromptu grilling session "I _did_ feel sorry for you, you know, having to shack up with this animal, but clearly – I mean, you two could be related!"

Susan looked up at the short, angry blond man but couldn't understand what he was going on about. The wound at her stomach felt like it was about to burst open and deposit her intestines onto the man's shoes. But he had gone silent, as if waiting for her to say something. "S-sorry for punching you…in the nose and…locking you in the bathroom…" She scrunched her eyes shut, hoping the need to vomit would pass quickly.

Danny glanced worriedly back at Steve as the young woman went ridged, her breath coming in slow, deep gasps. "Well, uh, don't worry about it, Kiddo, just get better. Steve, I'm gonna head home and find some ice," He motioned to the girl. "Call me if you need anything."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Danny, take care." He knelt in front of Susan, noticing the blood on her arms from where she'd pulled out the IV's again. She was still breathing hard and he gently squeezed her shoulders. "Susan, open your eyes, tell me what's wrong." He didn't know how long she'd been awake but all this movement wasn't going to do her stitches any good.

She wanted to tell him to just leave her alone until the nausea passed but she felt his hands on her shoulders and slowly looked up at him, hating the tears that slowly escaped. "Sorry," She whispered, covering her face with shaking hands. "I th-thought he was trying to k-kill me…"

Steve carefully pulled her against his chest, lowering them both to the floor, and planted his back against the wall as sobs shook her. "I'm sorry too; I didn't want you to wake up to strangers." In fact, considering he'd seen what she was capable of during past altercations, Steve was very grateful that Danny was heading home with only a busted nose. "What hurts the most?"

"My back, right now, everything else is…" _Everything hurts, I need an ice bath, stat!_ "Is manageable." She lied, too exhausted to have him fuss over her, and wiped her face. "I keep messing up your shirts, don't I?"

"I don't mind…" Steve trailed off, seeing the pain clearly in her eyes and wondering why she would keep it from him. He wouldn't admit that he himself had been guilty of the same tactic _many_ times before, with Danny, but it wasn't in his nature to complain or cause a scene so more often than not, he would keep it to himself and work through it in privacy. Again, Steve was surprised at the connection he felt to Susan and he looked down and smiled, wondering if it was his imagination or the defuse lighting that made the bruising almost disappear from her face – a face he found very attractive. There was something about her that he just couldn't put his finger on; maybe it was the solemn set of her lips, or the way her eyes seemed to see what he was thinking and feeling. There was something that made her both vulnerable and tough as nails, but he was drawn to the fact that she didn't flaunt her strength or wallow in her problems; she seemed to have a matter-of-fact way of dealing with whatever life threw at her and Steve could see more than a little of himself in the scrappy female: The same sense of self-preservation – that survivors mentality – how she was slow to trust but quick to fight, more grounded in logic and hard facts than led by emotion.

Susan craned her head so she could see his face, his eyes, as he stared down at her. He was analyzing, processing, and mentally breaking her down into smaller pieces, easier facts – risk versus reward, pro versus con. For her part, Susan was gauging just how far she was willing to let things go. Kohlurov would eventually track her down again and she didn't think he was stupid enough to give Steve another free pass, but she'd never been in a situation like this, never had the possibility of anything this good…this normal. For now, she would be willing to let Steve move at his own pace and would take advantage of every idyllic moment that he was foolish enough to waste on her. Susan knew that happy endings didn't exist for people like her, a fact she'd come to realize at a very young age, but while the fairy tale lasted, she wouldn't complain. Common sense told her it was useless to wish for the stars, hope for the best, chase your dreams; because at some point, those stars would fall and burn you alive in a puddle of your best hopes and all that chased you was nightmares that you could never outrun. However, one thing she'd always believed in was to live in the moment and take advantage of whatever good was available, no matter how brief a time it lasted or how big a hole it left when it was gone; she had become resigned to the fact that she may die at any time, and if one was allowed retrospect in the afterlife, she never wanted to regret missing out on an opportunity.

Susan didn't know if Steve wanted to kiss her, or if he would let her kiss him, but she gazed up into those calm, blue eyes and slowly raised her chin until their mouths were a breath apart. It wasn't love – or lust – it was trust. She wasn't in love with him, nor did she want to be, but this was a gesture of faith on her part and it was far more than just making herself vulnerable before him, it was how he used that vulnerability that she was truly interested in.

Steve didn't know what to expect as she moved beneath him and simply waited, giving him the option to meet her in the middle or not. He paused, unsure of her intentions and more than a little aware of his own; she didn't seem the type to need physical comfort and he wasn't smitten enough to believe that she had simply missed him or was grateful for his actions. No, there was something calculated, and maybe a little selfish, in this invitation and it made him more curious than ever about her. Habit told him to close his eyes but he was anxious to study her reaction as he gently pressed his lips against hers; it wasn't anything passionate or arousing but there was something deeply personal about their contact, like sharing a secret...forging a bond. He watched the emotions play over her face: Instant suspicion, wondering if she was getting played, then it softened into something close to relief, and finally, a deep, soul searing anguish that he couldn't begin to explain. Steve wanted to smother her in kisses, hold her tight until she was convinced that he would never let anything bad happen to her ever again but he knew, at this point, that such ministrations would do more harm than good – not to mention scare the daylights out of her.

She couldn't have put it into words if she tried, the sensation of Steve's warm lips set against hers; it was terrifying, overwhelming, and everything in between. He didn't force himself on her and didn't try to take more than what she offered; it was a touch filled with acceptance and patience, as he were no more prepared to be in this situation than she. Susan pulled away, afraid if they stayed connected any longer she'd leave part of herself with him and would never let go.

"I should probably check your back." Steve said after she broke away, planting another soft kiss into her hair before helping her to the bed.

Susan settled back, unable to contain the sharp intake of breath as pain shot up her thigh and into her chest. Steve was lifting her shirt and she felt a tearing sensation as he peeled away some of the bandages. "Any skin left back there?" She asked tightly, clamping her eyes shut and fisting her hands in the comforter.

"It still looks pretty bad but there are no signs of infection." He announced, pressing the tape back down. "You tired or hungry?" He wanted to stay up and talk but she looked like she was about to drop.

"Just tired…" Tired of not being able to stand on her on power, tired of lying down and not being comfortable, tired of having relative strangers take care of her, tired of not even being able to get to the bathroom by herself. "I'm sorry…can you just give me a few minutes alone?"

Steve frowned but did as she asked. "Yeah, I'll be just down stairs." He shut the bedroom door behind him, tempted to stay and listen in case she needed him, but went down to the kitchen to fix something to eat. As he prepared a sandwich, Steve wondered, not for the first time that night, if he'd gone crazy. Bringing a complete stranger into his home, taking the matter of her health and wellbeing into his own hands, having his team go well beyond their duties to stay with her, and finally, exposing himself emotionally in the form a kiss. He could hear Danny now, flipping out, calling him a Neanderthal, telling him it was just a rebound after Catherine, firmly stating that he had no right to mess with a strange woman whom he'd forced into his care. Settling onto the couch with his meal, Steve shook away the mental tirade of his partner and wondered how much time he should give Susan when lightning flashed outside and rain began to pound the roof; he loved hearing the rain, so much like the calming sound of the ocean. It relaxed him immediately and smoothed out all his worries, of which there were many on this night, the tempo so soft and rhythmic…

Steve awoke with a start, unaware of having fallen asleep. Thunder rumbled overhead and he wondered if it was just the storm that had pulled him from oblivion; he glanced towards the stairs, ears straining to detect anything out of place. Hopefully Susan was asleep by now and he was resigning himself to a night on the couch when he heard a thump and a door bang shut. The remnants of his supper went flying across the rug as he raced upstairs, throwing open the bedroom door. "Susan?" He called but there was no immediate sign of her and he almost went to the open window, afraid she'd decided to leave, until he saw the light on in the bathroom. In hind sight, he should have knocked, but the instant need to verify her safety overruled his good sensibilities and he whipped open the door. Blood - it was the first thing he saw – a few drops across the tile floor and a splash of it in the sink.

"Sorry – nosebleed…felt sick…I'll clean it up, just give me a sec."

Steve turned and saw her slumped in the corner of the shower, still clothed in his shirt, as water poured down on her. He exhaled loudly in relief; she wasn't gone or hurt or dead and his heart slowly made its way back down his throat.

Susan was barely keeping herself upright and was relieved – if a little embarrassed – when Steve grabbed a towel, shucked his shirt, and joined her under the warm cascade.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Felt really dizzy…" She slumped against him immediately, in so much pain she could barely lift her arms; her earlier tussle with Steve and Danny was costing her far more than she would admit and she silently cursed her weakness. "Everything hurts!" She finally confessed, wanting to punch the wall as a familiar, helpless anger stirred inside.

Steve tightened his grip, at a loss on how to comfort her. It was awkward enough being in a shower together and he could only imagine how she must hate having to rely on someone else for so simple a task. He wanted to make this as normal as possible.

"What are you doing?" Susan asked after a moment, hearing a pop followed by a strong scent that was decidedly masculine and woodsy as his free hand smoothing back her hair.

"Washing your hair, just try to relax." He pushed his fingers up the nape of her neck and massaged her scalp. "Let me know if it hurts." She didn't have long hair but it was thick and once he had it lathered up it snaked over his hand, soft as silk.

"Hmm, feels nice actually. I probably stink."

Steve smiled, repositioning the shower head to rinse away the suds. "Do you think you can lift your arms for a second?" It was difficult enough doing everything one-handed and he still wanted to wash the cuts on her back.

"I hate you." Susan groaned miserably but planted her palms against the glass, willing them to move upward.

He grinned, despite her complaint, and placed his hand over hers, easing them up until she could grasp the top of the frame. "Okay, here's the towel. Ready?" He gave her the count of three then tugged the shirt up and over her head and arms. "There, all done."

Susan groaned and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, gripping the edges of the soaked towel to her chest. "Make it quick, like a Band-Aid." She advised, feeling him tug at the tape that held the bandages in place.

"Okay, here it goes!" Steve shifted so his hips supported her weight and quickly worked his fingers under the first dressing. All seven bandages came off with a loud tearing sound of protest and he tossed them out onto the floor. "You good?"

She managed a nod, hissing as the water ran over her stitched flesh and her back arched sharply. "Cold…make it cold." Her hand fumbled for the temperature knob as the heat suddenly became too much. The last thing she wanted was to pass out.

"Not _that_ much!" It was his turn to let out a hiss as icy water jetted into his face; he thought he heard her call him a wimp but ignored it as he regulated the water and poured more soap into his palm. The doctor's comments about Susan's previous injuries suddenly came back to him and Steve found himself inspecting the bare plains of her back for those tell-tale scars; at first they were hard to distinguish because of the tattoo – which he spent a long moment examining - but soon he began to pick them out, oddly grouped together on her sides, up her spine, and around her upper shoulders. "How many are there?"

"Hmm?" She didn't know what he meant until she felt him tracing several of the scars on her side. "Oh, I don't know…dozens probably."

" _Why_?" He asked at length, angry that she would let people abuse her like this.

Susan snorted softly in amusement. "It's my job, my first and only." _Here it comes!_ She thought unhappily. The questions, the embarrassment, the accusations, all playing out just the way she'd imagined a hundred times before.

Steve took a calming breath, focusing on soaping her arms and shoulders; he didn't want to upset her but he really wanted to shake some sense into that pretty head! He couldn't even begin to imagine how messed up a person had to be to let others abuse them in such a way. He'd known many low-lives that would happily pay to cut up a pretty girl – or worse – and he really didn't want to think about those sorts of men being anywhere near Susan!

"I'm sorry," Susan said, catching hold of his hand. "I never talk about it but, well, I can see how it's hard to understand." She turned to face him, keeping hold of his hand for balance.

"You're right, I _don't_ understand." He admitted bluntly, wiping away a lingering trace of blood from her nose and turning off the water.

Susan looked him over, admiring – not for the first time – his muscular form, his dark hair, now spiky with moisture, and oceanic blue eyes – eyes that were now watching her intently, waiting for an explanation she wanted to deny giving for as long as possible. "Got another shirt I can ruin?"

Steve held her gaze even as he tried to hold onto his anger, but eventually he failed at both. "Hang on a minute." He stepped out of the shower, collecting the discarded bandages as he went, and grabbed a bathrobe and quickly changed into a dry pair of shorts. He was determined to get some answers out of her before the night was over, but as he stepped back into the humid bathroom he found himself struck, yet again, by the sight before him: Susan braced against the doorframe, head down, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The soaked towel dipping down around her back and clutched to her chest with one hand, the other hand fisted into her dripping hair; she was beautiful and pitiful and a completely puzzling mess!

Susan heard the linoleum creek and looked up to see Steve watching her and she could only imagine what a sight she must look. "Got a comb in this place?" She asked with a weak smile, pressing her fist harder against her now pounding head. She knew she didn't have the strength to comb out her own hair, let alone dry herself off, but she hated seeing the flash of pity in Steve's eyes.

"Put this on." He handed her the robe and turned to wash out the sink before toweling off his hair. When she was ready, Steve helped her back to the bed and went down stairs to clean up the spilled food and lock up the house before returning to the bedroom. Susan was unwrapping the gauze from around her thigh and he handed her a fresh roll before rearranging the pillows and seating himself against the headboard; when she was finished, he pulled her up so she sat in front of his folded legs and began working the knots from her hair. "So…" Steve prompted after a moment. "Help me understand."

Susan sighed, tucking a pillow against her chest, she wasn't used to talking this much and the task of verbalizing 'the story of her life' seemed too daunting. "There's not really that much to tell…I grew up in the system and spent most of my childhood in State Homes or shelters. There were a few times that I got placed but I was a quiet and introspective child…I usually ended up in some Shrink's office, being asked if I liked to hurt small animals or fantasized about suicide; because of it – people didn't know how to deal with a child who didn't make friends or smile or laugh or stuff themselves with junk food; so it was easier for them, you know, to pass me off to someone else or try to drug me into acting 'normal'. Through my teens I was homeless, spent nineteen months at this library – the owner said only people who were reading could stay so I spent sixteen hours a day reading almost every freaking book in that place! – he let me sleep in one of the back rooms and I cleaned the place for him…I really liked it there but eventually the system caught up with me and stuck me with another 'family' – I use the term _very_ loosely - and one of the guy's sons had a small time business dealing meth, coke, pcp, whatever he could get his hands on. We lived near the Mexico border and he'd do some trafficking from time to time; he was stupid enough to get mixed up in that stuff but smart enough not to get caught, he'd pack the drugs into balloons or condoms and swallow them before coming back into the States with no one the wiser. I went with him a few times and began trafficking as well; I made some good contacts, learned a lot, one thing led to another and five years later I'm an international courier for small time businesses. It started out with simple stuff: Insider trading tips, corporate account numbers, and blackmail photos – whatever people needed to transport by unconventional means. The longer I went, the more complicated things got and I could either cut loose and end up in an alley dumpster somewhere or I could step up my game and be more innovative; clients now wanted to use micro drives, encrypted nano cards – stuff that was a lot harder to get past airport screenings and x-rays, and if you couldn't bring something different to the table, you may as well offer to drop it off at the post office for them. But people who have secrets are always willing to pay to keep them if you can ensure anonymity and guarantee confidentiality - can I have some water?" Susan asked, hoping he was getting tired of hearing her talk.

"You just took a shower, keep going." Steve said pointedly, stretching out his legs. "But let me guess, you let these people cut you open just so they could keep hidden whatever illegal activities they were caught up in?"

"It sounds less adventurous when you say it like _that_. Anyway, it wasn't enough to just get something slipped under your skin; it had to be concealed, integrated, and undetectable. I met a prosthetic specialist in Germany that was working to develop bone implants and joint replacements that used plastics and other materials; I told him, in vague terms, what I was looking for and he designed false, motorized replacements that would act like camouflage for anything I needed to transport – the screenings and x-rays would still detect the hardware but it all blended together."

"How many implants do you have?"

"Implants? Just three: One in my neck, one on my left side, and the last is in my wrist. Replacements is another story, but you know, the clients like options and if you keep storing cargo in the same hold, well, you're a pretty easy mark for other couriers or whoever wants what you're transporting.

"Okay, how many replacements – and doesn't anyone find it strange that a seemingly healthy young woman would be walking around with all that stuff inside her?'

"Wouldn't you rather go to bed, or something, it's late."

"Nope."

Susan huffed; _questions, questions, questions_! "Fine, let's see…I got both knees replaced, my right hip, my…right shoulder, both floating ribs, and…that's it." She recited it like a shopping list, knowing her blasé tone would make him mad; but she wanted him to be honest and if he was upset he was more likely to tell her what he really thought. She waited for him to tell her she was crazy, sick, and demented because how could he care about her if she didn't care about herself; she wouldn't blame him, it wasn't anything she hadn't told herself before. "Tell me what you're thinking, Steve."

He sat back in silence, lacing his fingers above his head as if they could contain his whirling thoughts. She worked for _criminals_ – _she_ was a criminal! – letting them use her body like a mail sack to further their illegal activities. She'd let herself get cut open again and again, for what? Money, thrills, some twisted satisfaction? Steve's emotions told him all these things were true, however his common sense told him it all boiled down to a remarkable young woman trying to make the best out of a horrible situation. She hadn't asked to be abandoned, she didn't want to grow up without a home or family but she did want to survive and she managed to do just that, in the best way she knew how. "I don't know, Susan. I mean, it sounds crazy in a way, and I hate what they did to – "

"Those were _my_ choices, Steve, no one _made_ me do any of it."

"Well then I hate what you let them do to you. More than anything, I'm sorry you never had anyone tell you that you deserve so much better than what you've settled for."

Susan gave a wry grin. "I probably wouldn't have believed them if they had."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I really care about what happens to you - and that I would like to try to make you as happy as you deserve to be?" Steve wrapped his arms around her, easing her backwards until her head rested on his chest. Danny would blow his top if he knew what Steve had just insinuated but the former SEAL was surprised at how comfortable he felt expressing his feelings to Susan.

 _No happy endings, Susan! Your life is already shot, don't ruin his too!_ "I trust you, Steve, more than I've ever trusted anyone and I care for you more than I do for myself…because you're better than me; you have a rich, full life and I have only scars and shadows. I've never lived in a real house, been around normal people – I wouldn't even know where to begin! This, whatever _this_ is, between us now, it won't last and I don't think you should waste your time on someone like me." There, she'd said it. Maybe now he would understand that she just wasn't worth his time.

Steve felt her try to move away but he held her tighter, not ready to let her go. "Susan, Susan," He whispered over and over into her hair. "What if I told you that there's _no_ other place I'd rather be and _no_ one else I'd rather spent time with?"

She smiled sadly, reaching over to pat his leg. "Then I'd say that you definitely need to get out more…and I must be the luckiest girl in the whole world."

The following week was like something out of a fairytale for Susan and she'd never felt so relaxed and content. After their conversation that night, she'd fallen asleep in his arms and awoke to his gentle, exploratory kisses; he had the day off and they spent the early morning curled up in the hammock out back, watching the sun rise over the ocean before having breakfast on the lanai. Maybe it was her lack of exposure to normal activities, but Susan was convinced that Steve had this wonderful ability to make even the simplest of tasks into an adventure. He'd asked what she liked to eat and they spent the next two hours exploring his kitchen before he'd made her a smoothie with extra vitamins and supplements.

"Well?" He asked when she set the empty glass on the counter. Knowing she hadn't had any real food in days, he'd tried to make something that would be both nourishing and gentle on her empty stomach.

"Well, what? It was pretty gross." She said indifferently, wiping a hand over her mouth.

"Why'd you drink it all then? I'd have made something else for you!" He didn't know whether to be hurt or impressed by her blatant honesty.

"I figured you're the type of person to provide what's needed more than what's wanted and my guess is that was chock full of good-for-my-health-and-recovery stuff."

He quirked a brow at her no-nonsense evaluation; it sounded just like something he'd say. "That's very reasonable of you; more people could do with a mindset like that."

"Hmm," She answered with a wry grin over a sip of hot tea. "That's me, a paragon of well-adjusted humanity!" With tea in hand, they spent the rest of the morning exploring the rest of the house.

For Steve, it was like having an alien in his home – in the best possible way – because while Susan was knowledgeable in many different areas, she lacked so many basic life experiences that it was hard for him to grasp what her life must have been like before. She'd never celebrated a birthday – she didn't even know when it was – never been on a date, had no pictures of her childhood, and had no real possessions of her own. She was, quite literally, a nobody, and Steve couldn't even begin to guess how she'd become the intelligent, functional adult that she was. Normal people spent their entire lives under the most ideal conditions and didn't turn out half as smart or capable as Susan and it continually floored him!

For lunch, Steve had Kamekona deliver two spicy shrimp plates and they were now settled on the couch; he watched her take a bite, wondering if her stomach was ready for solid food just yet. "Well?"

Susan swallowed slowly, glancing over at him with coy smile. "It – it's _really_ different, Steve, I don't know yet!" She took a sip of coconut water and wrinkled her nose. "Blah! That I _don't_ like. It's like drinking someone else's spit!"

Steve laughed and went to get her a regular bottle of water. "So, okay, I've got another one," He been asking 'have you ever?' questions all morning, determined to know everything about her. "Did you ever skip school?"

"A better question would be: 'Did I ever _attend_ school.' I didn't really fit in…so I spent most days just wandering around whatever city I was in."

"Ever been arrested?"

"Nope. You want to finish this, I'm stuffed?" She handed over the remainder of her lunch, stretching her legs out across his with a yawn.

"Sure. Ever celebrate Christmas?" Steve questioned, pausing to take a drink.

"Nope. Last Christmas I was, let's see…I was in Novosibirsk getting an SD chip cut out of my hip." She noticed him go still and finally set the rest of his meal on the coffee table. "You shouldn't let that kind of stuff bother you, Steve, really, it's just like…" she searched for a comparison he could relate to. "Like another day at the office. No big deal." Actually she thought it was sweet, and a little sad, that he would be more concerned with her wellbeing than she was. It was annoyingly adorable to see him get so worked up about her.

Steve shook his head, wondering how she could treat it all so nonchalantly. He was tempted to start another argument about being more careful but she just arched a brow, as if daring him to do just that, so instead, he leaned past her to collect the trash, returning to his original subject. "Do you ever – "

"Do you ever shut up?" Susan asked, intercepting him with an impatient kiss; it was long and deep – and a little spicy from the shrimp. She leaned back with a pleased grin. "I think I'm getting better at this!"

Steve couldn't agree more as she sealed her mouth over his and pushed him back onto the cushions. All questions and protests fled as he felt her weight settle onto his hips and her fingers kneading his shoulders. He ran his hands down her sides, feeling the taut muscle beneath her shirt - well, _his_ shirt – when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth with a hiss.

"Easy on the stitches!" She said testily, kissing a trail across his rough cheek and down his neck as he moved his hands back up to her shoulders, stroking the arch of her neck until his fingers found the metal plate there and traced its edges.

"What is this, a search and find?" Steve heard her murmur as he located the other plate low on her side. "Mmhmm." He answered, kissing lightly along her jaw, the healing cuts scraping his lips.

Susan snorted in amusement as he continued his not-so-subtle exploration. "It's the other hip, Stupid." She teased when he finally paused to look up at her.

"Now who won't shut up? I was getting there!" He laughed, reaching for her hands when her head shot up, eyes wide, and she rolled off him, disappearing before he could right himself. A moment later, the doorbell rang and Steve palmed his empty hip, cursing himself for leaving his SIG upstairs. He moved quickly towards the door, staying out of sight of the side windows as Susan reappeared from the kitchen, a long filet knife in her hand. Steve motioned for her to stay back, tempted to have her toss him the blade until the doorbell rang again and he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Boss, sorry to bother you on your day off." Kono said when Steve opened the door, looking unusually flushed. "I wanted to drop off some clothes for Susan; Chin said she didn't have much with her – the receipts are in the bags in case something doesn't fit, he wasn't really precise about her size."

"That's great, Kono, thanks! Want to come in? You can give them to her yourself." He glanced back to see Susan shaking her head with a comical frown wrinkling her brows. Good Lord, she was a sight, balanced on her good leg with his shirt swathing her petite frame and the knife gripped expertly in her hand, ready for attack.

"That's okay, maybe another time. She must still be pretty out of it but Chin said he'd stay with her tomorrow and Danny will take Monday; if she's up to it on Tuesday, Grace has been begging for a girl day, Susan might enjoy it."

Steve laughed, trying to picture Susan gossiping and getting her nails done. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks for bringing these by; I'll see you tomorrow."

"No problem, Brah, take care."

Steve closed the door and brought the bags over to the coffee table. "Kono bought you some stuff, want to take a look?" He grinned, watching her eyes light up with curiosity as she padded over like a kitten inspecting a ball of yarn, the knife now clasped comfortably behind her back.

"What's a 'girl day'?" Susan asked, rising on tip toes to peer into one of the bags.

"You know, uh, putting on makeup, getting your hair done, talking about boys, trying on clothes. Just – you know, _girl_ stuff." His knowledge really only extended to what he remembered his Mom doing with Mary when she was little, these days he had no idea what women did together.

"Do I need makeup?" She questioned him, pursing her lips.

"I think you're beautiful just the way you are."

"And what needs fixing with my hair?"

"Not a thing, I love it."

"As for clothes – "

"You can take that off, I won't mind." He grinned slyly before taking the knife from her and tossing it on the couch.

She couldn't help but sigh in pleasure when he pulled her against his chest, loving to listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "A girl day, huh? I don't know that I'm ready that, Steve. It's just…a little soon, you know?"

"I understand. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." He bent down for a kiss. "Are you comfortable with this?" He teased as she tucked her fingers through his belt loops.

"Yup." His lips were warm and she couldn't help but take advantage, moving her hands to the back of his neck. She could have stayed like that, wrapped in his arms for the rest of the day but after a few moments, Susan pulled back with a sigh. "I think I need a nap."

Steve smiled, grazing her forehead with his cheek. "I think you're right; you can try this stuff on later." He released her with more than a little reluctance to collect the bags and follow her upstairs, wondering if she would miss wearing his clothes as much as he would miss seeing her in them.

Susan woke to Steve shaking her shoulder; he was telling her to get up but she was so comfortable, for the first time in weeks, she couldn't bear to move. He became more insistent and she finally grabbed his hand, which was deliciously warm from the shower he just taken, and rolled over with it. "Go away – leave the hand." She grumbled into her pillow only to let out a sudden shriek when the covers were yanked off her, letting in a rush of cool air.

"Come on, Susan," Steve wrestled his arm free and sat beside her to pull on his boots while she quickly attached herself to his back like a leech, arms around his chest, legs around his waist. "I have to go to work. Chin's down stairs with your breakfast." He coaxed, stroked her leg.

"Hmm, I have money, you don't have to work. Get back in bed!" She said through a yawn, tucking her cold nose against his neck.

Steve laughed, planting a kiss on her hand as he tried to stand but she wouldn't budge; grabbing the edge of the dresser, he pulled himself to his feet, feeling like he was wearing a field pack. Steve thought she'd let go when he got to the stairs but she stayed suctioned on to him and he could only shrug when Chin raised a questioning brow.

"Everything okay, Steve?" Chin asked, wildly amused at the sight before him. "Want me to get the crowbar from the garage?"

Steve smirked, feeling her laugh silently into his shirt. "Oh, she's fine, just not much of a morning person I guess. Come on, Susan, get down." He pried at her fingers, trying to pour his coffee with the other hand.

"I'll bite you!" She warned, nipping at his ear until he stopped.

"Chin, can you give me a hand, here?"

"I don't think so, Brah, I don't want to get bit." The other man laughed, snapping a quick picture with his phone. He _couldn't_ wait to show Danny!

"Smart man." Susan announced, finally detaching herself and settling onto the countertop with a shiver. She watched Steve forlornly as he collected his things.

"Be good." Steve ordered in mock sternness, kissing the top of her head before nodding to Chin and heading out the door.

"Hi, Susan, I'm Chin Ho." He held out his hand, still trying to wrap his head around everything Steve had filled him in on about the young woman.

Susan tilted her head to the side, looking him over with open curiosity before giving his hand a single, firm shake. Glancing around, she felt a familiar sense of unease begin to creep over her and she wished Steve hadn't left.

"Why don't you sit right there and eat your breakfast while I get that bandage changed." He handed her a full plate and went upstairs to get the clean dressings.

Susan would have preferred to take care of that herself but knew the man was only trying to be helpful. Setting the untouched food aside, she lifted Steve's coffee mug out of the sink, spinning it in her hands; he apparently used it ever morning and just touching it made her feel better.

Chin returned with the supplies and pulled over a kitchen chair so he could sit in front of her. "I'm sorry, I would have asked if you wanted a cup but Steve said you didn't drink coffee." He carefully set her foot on the lip of the chair and began to unwind the bandage around her thigh. "Kono said she brought you some clothes, yesterday, I hope they fit."

"How long have you worked with Steve?" Susan asked, ignoring his comment about the coffee – she wasn't in the habit of drinking things prepared by others – and the clothes, being perfectly comfortable in what she was wearing.

"Only a few years, but he's ' _ohana._ I worked with his father when I was with HPD; he was a good man – raised a good son, too."

"Where is he?" Susan examined the bullet wound as Chin removed the soiled gauze pad; considering how much she'd been on it, the redness was expected but overall, it was healing just fine.

"Steve's dad was murdered about four years ago, that's what brought him back to Hawaii. Doris, his mother, travels a lot and Mary, His little sister, lives in the States. This doesn't look too bad; does it hurt much when you walk on it?"

"It's fine, thanks." She replied absently, trying to picture Steve having a family. He seemed so self-contained that it seemed strange to think of him doing chores for his mom or playing with his little sister.

Chin smirked. "That sounds like something Steve would say." He'd gotten a call from Danny two days ago and had endured a lengthy rant from the high strung New Jerseyan about Steve's wild new house guest; seeing the petite young woman before him, Chin still found it a little hard to believe that she could get the drop on Danny – and almost Steve, too! - "There, all done." He pronounced with a smile, finishing with the tape on the new bandage." Now, if you're feeling up to it, Steve had some things he wanted you to help me with and I've already got everything set up in the living room."

Susan nodded, following him into the other room, curious when she saw the computer and other equipment. "What are you going to do?" She perched on the arm of the couch, pulling her shirt down over her knees.

"Well, I'm going to fingerprint you and run the prints through some of our databases – "

"You want to know if I'm wanted by the Police."

Chin laughed. "No, Susan, Steve trusts you and he wants to be able to protect you but in order to do that, we need to know who may have an interest in finding you."

"I see…" She knew he wouldn't find any information on her, unless Kohlurov had put out a contract on her – and if that was the case, she would be gone within the hour, long before Steve got home.

Even though Danny had provided her prints from the hospital, Chin still held out a small screen and pressed her finger tips onto it, watching the other monitor as it processed the information. Slowly but surely, all the databases came back with no results and he began extending the search to include cold cases, missing persons, and even international agencies, determined to find something about her.

After a moment, she saw him sit back with a puzzled expression and knew he was forming a less-than-desirable opinion of her. "I didn't get this far by being careless, Chin Ho."

"No, I suppose not." He replied evenly, wondering if Steve knew just what he'd gotten himself mixed up in this time. "You do travel, though, so where is your passport?"

"In a locker at the airport." It wasn't a total lie, she _did_ have a locker at the airport but it was in one of the employee break-rooms and the passport inside was exactly twenty seven days old, courtesy of her most recent employer.

"I'll have Danny pick it up – "

"It's going to stay right where it is." She didn't raise her voice but the tone left no room for discussion. "What did you think you'd find on me, hmm? A trail of assassinations across Europe, a few Swiss bank accounts that lead to a string of shell corporations, maybe an unflattering mugshot on the FBI's most wanted? Well they're not there, Chin, none of them. I have rules, very strict and precise rules that keep me alive and if it were as easy as doing a search on Google then Kohlurov and a hundred men like him would be cutting me up into little pieces instead of sitting on their hands, waiting for me to slip up!"

"Remember, Susan, we're the good guys here. Helping us keeps you alive." Chin pointed out, beginning to reform his opinion of her, and not for the better.

She snorted derisively, looking away. "My world doesn't work like that." He would never understand how different she was, how deep the flaws went. She could see that he was putting up defenses, thinking her anger was being directed at him, at Steve, but in truth it stemmed from her own shortcomings.

"Okay," Chin had to take a moment – and several deep breathes – to re-school his normally calm features. "Explain to me how things work in _your_ world." Steve deserved way better than this and Chin would be hanged if he wasn't going to prove it!

Susan didn't want to say another word to him, not until she could work out her thoughts, and didn't want to admit just how little control she had over her own emotions – her own life! She raked a hand through her hair in irritation. Reasons, explanations, talking to people beyond business and perfunctory greetings were things Susan hadn't really had to deal with before and she had to really focus on working through the discomfort instead of just running away. "This is how it works: Depending on where I am, I check into a specific location once a week, if a client has a job, they leave a burner phone for me to make contact within twenty-four hours, to set up terms. When I'm satisfied with those terms, I will meet with a third party who will deliver the information to be transported – so I don't see the clients and they never see me. Their 'package' is inserted at a location of their choosing and they are responsible for transit arrangements and travel documents. I get handed the paperwork at the departure point and they repossess it as soon as I arrive; once the new client makes contact and retrieves their 'package', I get paid and check into my next location."

"When you say: 'Inserted at a location of their choosing – "

"I pick the doctor but the client can choose from a list of insertion points."

"So that's why there's nothing in any of the databases…you only exist in the system within the timeframe you have the fake ID's."

"They're real, but not real to me. I exist as a traceable person for the short time I have those documents; as soon as I arrive I go back to being a no-body until the next job. But I always have the money I need to be comfortable until then, it just requires a little creativity."

It was Chin's turn to run a hand through his hair, though it was more from amazement than irritation. How could anyone live like that! "Is Susan even your real name? How many jobs have you done…do you even keep track?"

"Who knows what my birth name was…my parents didn't keep me so I didn't see the point in keeping their name. Someone called me Susan, once, by mistake, and I've used it ever since. As to how many jobs and who the clients were, well, are you familiar with Kerckhoffs's Principle, or more specifically, Shannon's Maxim of security through obscurity?"

"I can't say I am."

Susan turned around and pulled up the back of her shirt. "It's all there, in the tattoo; almost thirteen years of names and secrets."

Chin starred, moving closer to examine the detailed scene-scape. At first, he could see only a specific picture, but like those optical illusions he hated, the more he looked, the more he saw until it was one scene comprised of hundreds of micro scenes. "You designed this yourself?"

"Mhmm; I update it every month or so."

"Did these incisions mess it up?"

"Not too much from what I could see. But if you can get scans of it, I can fill in what's missing, though I don't know what good it'll do you. There are a lot of very important names – not people you can just walk up to and slap a pair of cuffs on."

Chin stood to turn on the overhead lights before moving the hand-held scanner slowly over each section of her back. "We'll let Steve worry about that, for now, I'll send these back to our office and have them analyzed. Steve can bring the print-outs home and you and Danny can go over them tomorrow." He finished up and connected the scanner to his lap top, sending the images to Charlie. "I didn't realize the time, are you hungry?" Chin asked as she pulled her shirt back down and stood, stretching her hurt leg.

"Not really, I'm going to take a nap." She headed upstairs and noticed the bags of clothes still sitting by the closet, curious, she moved them onto the bed and dumped everything out. There was a pink strapless dress that immediately went back in the bag, along with a two bikinis but she did keep out a pair of dark grey cargo pants and a few plain t-shirts, along with the necessary undergarments. Other than a pair of flip flops, there weren't any practical shoes and she made a mental note to ask Steve for a pair as she moved the clothes into the closet, pausing to run her hand over the row of hanging shirts. Steve's dress blues hung at the back and she carefully took them out, imagining how he must look in them; perhaps she would have gone into the military, if things had been different…she would have done a lot with her life if things had been different.

Sometime later, Chin knocked on the bedroom door. "Susan? Steve is on the phone and wants to talk to you."

She lifted her head from where she'd been dozing and went to take the phone, nodding her thanks. 'Hi,"

 _"_ _Susan, how's it going with Chin?"_

"I imagine he already told you."

 _"_ _He did but I want to hear it from you."_

"You should have told me what you were going to have him do, Steve – "

 _"_ _Hey, I know this isn't easy for you, but you need to cooperate with him, Susan. We're trying to get a lead on Kohlurov but until we get him, you need to understand that everything we're doing is to keep you safe, okay?"_

Susan lowered the phone, blinking away the pooling moisture; he sounded upset and she didn't like the way it made her feel. She was tempted to hang up – she'd only ever talked to clients or doctors on the phone and if felt strange to have someone she cared about on the other end of the line. "Okay, Steve, I'm sorry…"

 _"_ _I know, Susan; I know you're doing a lot of adjusting but trust me on this, okay?"_

 _I trust you on everything._ She wanted to say, but settled for: "I miss it when you're not here." She handed back the phone before hearing his reply, a little afraid he wouldn't say he missed being with her. "Thank you, Chin Ho. Is there anything else I can help you with right now?"

Chin smiled softly, surprised that a few words from his boss could so thoroughly dispirit her. "Not right now, get some rest."

Susan shut the door behind him and cleared off the bed, wondering how she could have let herself become so emotionally dependent on someone else so fast. She'd been alone for all her life, really, but over the span of just the last two weeks she'd become deeply attached to Steve and this new sense of vulnerability was unnerving. Eventually Susan fell asleep, wondering just how long she could keep this up.

It was late and Steve was exhausted; he'd just sent Chin home and put the stack of photos from Charlie on the coffee table when he passed the hall and saw Susan sitting on the floor in the dark, holding something. "Susan, are you okay?" He turned on the lamp and saw she had a picture of his family; all of them at the beach, Mary was just starting to walk when it had been taken and his parents were laughing as they chased her across the sand with Steve on his father's shoulders.

"Why are you helping me, Steve?" She asked softly, thumbs rhythmically stroking the sides of the frame, eyes glued to the photo.

 _Because it's my job._ That was the easy answer, the quick response; but with Susan, it was _so_ much more than just a sense of obligation. A small part of him was afraid that maybe he was falling in love with her. "There's not a simple answer, Susan. Partly, it's my job – my nature – to protect people, partly because I really do care about you – "

"Why? Because you pity me?"

"I don't pity you," _Not entirely true._ "I admire your strength, your resilience…your compassion."

The last one surprised her; she'd never thought of herself as compassionate and wondered what he saw in her that would make him say that. "I'm afraid, Steve." She admitted quietly, standing to return the photo to the side table.

"Of what?"

She made herself meet his eyes, both hating and loving the concern she saw. "Maybe…loving you…losing you...and being alone again. I didn't know how much I could miss something I never had…but it feels like I've been missing you my whole life." There weren't any tears for this kind of grief, the ache so deep she wondered if he could hear her insides tearing themselves apart.

"Oh, Susan," He engulfed her in a crushing embrace. "I _do_ love you! I didn't know if I could ever feel this way about someone, again, but – "

She didn't let him finish; he'd said he loved her and she didn't need to hear anything else. She remembered, in years past, watching people together – parents and children, friends, couples, co-workers – and wondering what it would be like to feel comfortable enough with another person to be so completely open about your thoughts and feelings. The logical part of her thought it was the most foolish thing in the world, another part of her wondered what she was missing out on.

Steve returned her kiss, deep and longing; he _did_ love her, more than he could even comprehend, and felt that she'd become an irreplaceable part of him. He wanted her, all of her, everything she could give, whether it be love, joy, comfort, grief, or anything in between. After Catherine, he wasn't sure he knew how to open himself up to someone again, but Susan had snuck inside his barriers without even trying, making him feel alive and complete instead of vulnerable and exposed. What he shared with Susan went so far beyond mere physical attraction that he couldn't imagine making that his sole focus; she wasn't his type at all, really, but he felt like she was closer than a childhood friend, closer to him than Danny, in some ways.

Later that night, Susan laid staring blankly at the bedroom wall, her head on Steve's shoulder and one hand lightly stroking the length of his bare chest. She felt the warmth of his arm around her waist and couldn't imagine feeling more safe; she was tired but didn't want to sleep, afraid that she'd wake up to her old life in some dingy hotel room. Careful not to wake him, Susan pressed her palm to Steve's heart, feeling the slow, steady rhythm that wasn't just life – it was purpose, determination, a conscious will to live that Susan envied him for. She glanced up at his face in the darkness, seeing every detail clearly in her mind, wondering if he would ever dream about her.

When Steve awoke, he found Susan still by his side, one small hand resting over his heart, dark eyes watching him. "Did you sleep?" He asked, rolling onto his side to face her.

"I just can't figure out what I ever did to deserve someone like you, Steve." She smiled, wondering for the thousandth time why she hadn't woken up from this fantasy yet.

"You know," He swung a leg over hers and shifted until he was looking down at her. "I was wondering the same thing about you." His eyes felt like sponges, absorbing everything about her – the bright copper tint that a ray of sun brought out in her eyes, the rich sheen of her hair as it lay across the pillow in messy waves, her thick brows framing long lashes and a straight nose. His heart clenched a bit at the thought of losing her and he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. "I'm never gonna let you go, Susan." He said softly.

"Promise?"

He nodded, letting his lips do the convincing, unaware of the dark shadow that suddenly filled the doorway. There was a flash of light and Steve rolled off the bed, nearly breaking his neck on the night stand as he spun to face the intruder. His gun was on his bedside table but maybe Susan could reach it if he distracted them long enough –

"Whoa, Tiger, take it easy!" Danny laughed, ducking a pillow aimed at his head. The detective slipped his phone back into his pocket with a triumphant smile before leaning against the door frame, taking in the sight of his partner looking ready to take on the world in his PJ's.

"Jeez, Danno, why don't you sneak up on us next time?" Steve flopped back onto the bed, letting his heart crawl back down into his chest.

"Oh, come on, I called you twice – I knocked on the front door… _and_ Kono _might_ have offered to pay me fifty bucks to get a good shot of you two – "

Steve snorted in disbelief. _She would! I wonder how much she paid Chin?_

"Hey, don't look at me like that, I have a teenage daughter to provide for – who, unfortunately, inherited her mother's expensive tastes!" Danny dodged another pillow and came to sit on Steve's side of the bed, hoping he wasn't in store for another punch in the nose. "So, you kinda like this goofy guy, huh?" He asked Susan casually. "'Cause I know from personal experience that he can be, well, let's see:" He began ticking them off on his fingers. "Reckless, stubborn, controlling, petty, manipulative, - "

"Understanding, loving, brave, loyal, honest, - "Susan continued seriously.

"Wait, are we still talking about _Steve_?" Danny cut her off as Steve kicked him off the bed, laughing. "You see that? He's an animal!"

"He's just jealous, Susan, don't listen!" Steve leaned over to steal a kiss before heading into the bathroom.

"I hope she put NAIR in your shampoo!" Danny yelled good-naturedly before turning back to Susan. "Come on downstairs when you're ready, Kiddo."

"Okay." She waited until she heard the refrigerator door open before slipping out from under the covers. She hadn't worn real clothes in what seemed like ages, but her thigh was still tender, so she opted for a fresh pair of looser shorts and a tank top; she appreciated the other woman bringing her clothes but strangely felt as though she were taking off a protective shield as she pulled Steve's shirt over her head.

"Hey, everything okay?" Steve asked, running a hand through his hair. He saw her standing by the closet, dressing in the clothes Kono had given her, his shirt scrunched up in her hands and a wave of uneasiness swept through him. She looked so normal, standing there, as if she were just another woman who could walk out of his life at the drop of a hat.

"I suppose." Susan replied slowly, finally tossing the shirt into the hamper before turning to leave. She could feel him watching her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and didn't feel like having to do more explaining.

"Hey, "He caught her hand as she passed. "I love you, Susan." Smiling as her eyes lit up.

She couldn't help but lean into him, pressing against his still-damp body, as though he could simply absorb her, and lacing her fingers behind his neck. "I love you too…so crazy much!" Susan could have spent the rest of the day standing there in his arms but forced herself to back off so Steve could get ready for work.

Danny glanced up from the stack of photos Steve had brought home, watching Susan as she came down the stairs, curious to discover just what it was that his gung-ho, Neanderthal of a boss saw in this petite young woman. Her hair was pulled back, accentuating a sharp jaw and high cheek bones; she was slender but Danny was surprised at the muscular definition in her bare arms and legs. She was really pale, making Danny feel like a sun-bathing beach bum, and there was a certain child-like curiosity in her eyes that reminded him of Grace.

"Would you like something to eat, Detective?" Susan asked coolly, keenly aware of his scrutiny; Steve's other partners seemed nice but she still felt skittish around this one. She could sense how perceptive he was but he disguised it well with humor and bravado.

"No thanks, I'm good. I try to avoid eating anything in this house that doesn't have a take-out menu taped to it." He joked, feeling a tinge of awkwardness as she merely quirked a polite grin and disappeared into the kitchen. _Well, it isn't her sense of humor that's got him seeing stars._ Danny thought wryly as Steve came down the stairs.

"So, uh, you two gonna be okay spending the day together?"

"If you're asking if I'm gonna get myself locked in a bathroom again, the answer is _no_. But if she keeps her hands to herself then so will I." Danny said with a less-than-convincing grin. _But if she tries anything, I'll put her down in a hot minute!_

"Danny, go easy on her! Things didn't exactly go smoothly with Chin yesterday so I'm sure she'll be a little on edge." Steve warned, surprised to find himself more concerned for his partner's safety than Susan's. He knew Danny could take care of himself but he also knew Susan wouldn't hesitate to neutralize a potential risk if she felt threatened.

"Come on, Steve, you make it sound like we're gonna have a throw-down in the back yard, or something! Relax, would you, I know how to treat a lady; we'll be fine!"

 _Accept she doesn't know how a lady should be treated._ Steve thought worriedly, coming to find Susan standing just behind the archway that led to the kitchen and garage, listening to them. "Don't worry about Danny, okay, you're gonna have a good day." He tugged gently on her chin, making her nod, even though her eyes still shown with caution. "Make sure you eat." He dropped a light kiss on her cheek and headed out the door, shooting Danny one final look of warning.

Susan stood for a moment, pushing away her feelings of misgiving before stepping into the living room, determined to be more open and relaxed.

"So…I gotta ask: What'd you do with the money?" Danny could tell the question caught her off guard but he'd been dying to know ever since Chin had filled him in on the events of yesterday.

Susan grinned, feeling the her tightly wound nerves loosen a bit, and settled onto the couch – closer than she was comfortable with but she didn't want him to think she was being stand-offish. "I kept what I needed, until the next job, but gave most of it away."

Danny winced. _Who just gives money away?_ "How much?" He asked, knowing the answer would pain him deeply.

"A _lot_." When she was younger, everything was about money – life, safety, and plain survival – but during her teenage years, she'd come to appreciate the ability to operate without always having funds available. "But keeping that kind of money on you makes people take notice, and in my line of work, that's the last thing you want. I made sure to give it to those who could really use it, though: Single parents, shelters, orphanages, outreach groups – I tried to get it to people who worked hard but just couldn't get by with what they had…"

"That's…pretty amazing, actually, good for you." Okay, so it wasn't a _total_ mystery what Steve saw in her. "Well, let's get to work on all this stuff; let's see, why don't you take this and the photos – start writing down just the names, for now, and we'll get them uploaded when you're done. This should give us enough to get started with."

Susan took the pen and paper from him as he set up his laptop and propped his feet on the coffee table, quirking a brow at the colorful socks he wore. "You know, I'm admitting my involvement in multiple crimes, if I do this. Some would call it espionage – treason…"

"But if you help us bring these guys down, you would get an easier sentence." He pointed out, wondering how far Steve had thought this through, because she wasn't wrong.

"You think I should go to prison for what I've done." It wasn't a question. "It would get me away from Steve – and I think you would be happy about that."

"Hey, it's not that I don't like you, Susan. But…I care about him, I care what happens to him and I would do anything to protect him if I thought – "

"I would never intentionally hurt Steve!" Susan said adamantly, crossing her arms and feeling a bit defensive – though she could understand and appreciate Danny's position.

"I don't doubt that – but come on! – This Russian guy is bad news, right? You know he's still looking for you but you're still here, and if…" He trailed off, unwilling to play out that scenario in his mind. It would be like Wo-Fat all over again and Danny would die before he let something like that happen to Steve again. "I think you know that it's hard-wired into that loveable knucklehead to put the safety of others before his own – and he wouldn't think twice about throwing himself into the line of fire if it meant protecting you. I can't imagine what you've been through, but if you love Steve, you'll think about what's good for him, too."

Susan couldn't help but cringe inwardly as the truth of his statement rammed into her carefully constructed excuses. He was right, of course, and she'd been battling her better judgment all week, torn between wanting to be with Steve and leaving to keep him safe. Part of her knew she should have sneaked away as soon as she was able but she'd found the prospect of loving and being loved to be too hard to resist. "I should leave, I know that – but you have to try to understand, Danny – I'm never going to have another chance like this…" She felt so selfish for saying it out loud, but more than anything, she wanted just a little more time with Steve. "What kind of guy is ever going to look at me the way he does? I wouldn't expect them too! But he sees something in me that he needs and I can't say that I don't feel the same."

Danny sighed, his sympathies for her growing, despite his previous misgivings. "I get it, Susan, I do. There's nothing worse than not being with the person you love…anyway, think about it – if you leave, it doesn't have to be forever."

It was late afternoon when they finished up with the photos and Danny was uploading the last of nearly sixty names when Susan suddenly moved off the couch.

Quick, silent steps took her towards the patio doors; there was a silent alarm pounding in her chest as she edged along the wall until she had a clear view of the back yard and thankfully it was empty, for now. She returned to the living room, amazed that Danny hadn't noticed anything amiss. "We need to leave, Danny, right now!" She hissed, gripping his shoulder tightly so he'd know she was serious. "Come on, right now!"

Danny flinched as her fingers clamped around his arm but his angry exclamation fell silent when he saw the fear in her eyes. It was then, as she pulled him to his feet, that he noticed the unnatural quiet that had settled over the house and instinct made him drop into a crouch as he moved with Susan. A shadow passed the kitchen window and he drew his gun, wondering if they could still reach the garage and Steve's hidden arsenal. "It's him, isn't it?"

Susan nodded, terrified. She wished Steve was here but at the same time, glad he was safe elsewhere. She didn't want him to have to watch her die and was determined that Danny wouldn't see it either; Kohlurov would have the house surrounded in minutes and they had one small chance to get through the back door unseen. "Stay beside me, Danny, we'll go out through the backyard to those trees. Run when I tell you." She whispered, praying he had the sense to obey her.

They moved past the stairs in tandem and Danny could swear he heard footsteps on the floor above them. At any moment, he could imagine bullets tearing through the walls around them, ending it all without giving them a chance to fight back – if he were Kohlurov, that's how he would do it.

She was relieved – but suspicious – when they made it to the backdoor in one piece and she surveyed the empty expanse of grass once more before sliding open the glass door. "Okay, you go first and when you reach those trees you can cover me. Stay low and be quick." Susan moved aside to give him a clear shot. Just a few seconds more and this situation would improve dramatically, she just had to get him out of the house before it was too late!

"We don't know how many there are, we should go together." Danny hissed, worriedly measuring the distance and wondering if she could make it with her bad leg. He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to her while Steve was away. "Can you make it if I help you?"

He wasn't going for it. Susan gritted her teeth, forcing herself to make him believe that both of them were getting out of this alive. She knew her leg wouldn't slow her down too much, but if Kohlurov didn't get her today, he would try again and keep trying until he ran her to ground. Then it would go worse for her – and anyone who'd helped her. "I can make it. We'll go on three – just keep moving, I'll keep up." She took a deep breath and gave the signal. "Go, go, go!" Danny shot out the door and she quickly locked it after him, relief washing through her even as she saw him pause as he became aware of her absence. "Don't stop, Danny." She urged, suddenly hearing movement upstairs. _Just in time, thank God!_

Danny heard the door close behind him and wanted to tell Susan not to waste time. _Leaving the door open is the least of our problems right now!_ It might tip off Kohlurov, but he planned on both of them being somewhere safe when that happened. His heart was pounding as he dashed across the patio, cringing as the wood creaked under his weight, and peered around the corner of the house. So far so good. Turning to make sure Susan was ready to move, he blinked in confusion when she wasn't there, and glanced back at the house with mounting horror as he saw her still crouched behind the now closed door. _What does she think she's doing?_ He wanted to scream in frustration as he raced back to the door, trying in vain to open it. "Susan, what is this? Come on, we have to leave!"

She shook her head, angry that he was wasting his chance to get away. "I'm sorry, Danny. Just go!"

He pressed his fist to the glass, livid. "I am _not_ leaving you here, now open the door!"

"You'll keep taking care of Steve for me, won't you?" A thundering crash sounded and she moved back against the wall, glanced over her shoulder at the detective. "Go, Danny. Don't let this be for nothing – keep him away from here."

Danny heard the commotion inside and cursed her for making him do this - but she was right, so he paused for just a second longer, watching her sneak towards the kitchen, before sprinting back across the yard and disappearing into the safety of the trees next door. That last look would haunt him for years to come, he could feel it – her dark eyes, desperate and pleading, more worried for his safety than her own – and it made him sick to know that she would die in that house, alone.

She didn't wait to make sure Danny left before moving for the knife drawer in the kitchen, but an instant later, the front door burst open and six men filed into the living room. Pavel Kohlurov led them, his sharp gaze settling on her almost immediately as a seventh man came down the stairs behind her.

"You look very much alive, Devushka (Girl), considering our last encounter – though I cannot say that I'm not pleased, seeing as how we still have unfinished business, you and I." Kohlurov smiled, giving her an appraising once-over.

"Ya zadolzhat' vy nichego, Kohlurov. Nash biznes yest' na."(I owe you nothing, Kohlurov. Our business is over.) She stated firmly as he turned to his men.

"Poluchit the oborudovaniye vnutri na odin raz! Derzhat' an glaz na the ulitsa, Gregor, vy slishkom Vasily." (Get the equipment inside at once! Keep an eye on the street, Gregor, you too Vasily.)

Susan felt like she should be doing something but two of Kohlurov's men had their weapons trained on her so she just stood, watching as Steve's dining table was cleared off and a large refrigerated cooler set up with some basic surgical supplies near it. Within minutes, they'd secured the house and had lookouts posted upstairs; Susan wished she'd thought to take Danny's gun when Kohlurov suddenly came to stand right before her. One quick shot and it would all be over – she would be shot by his men, of course, but it would make her feel better knowing Kohlurov wouldn't be around to threaten Steve or his friends again.

"You have one opportunity to cooperate. You will die either way, but it can be over quickly or I will make it last for hours."

Danny crouched lower in the bushes as two men walked the perimeter of Steve's house, waiting for his opportunity to get back inside. Only moments ago, he'd realized that his phone had fallen from his pocket during his sprint to the trees and now it lay near the corner of the deck – too far to safely retrieve, at the moment. He was torn between going to the neighbor's house to call Steve and staying close in case Susan managed to escape; but the minutes ticked by and he finally slipped away, praying he hadn't made the wrong choice.

Steve hung up with the Governor and scrubbed his face tiredly. Denning wanted his report on what happened at the warehouse and a good explanation for the dead 'nurse' in the hospital garage; he'd said as much as he could without giving Susan away, praying Danny would come up with something solid from the info on Susan's tattoo. Just thinking about the sassy brunet made him smile and he was so tempted to knock off early and surprise her with a picnic dinner on the beach. He knew Danny still had reservations about her and Steve could understand his partner's caution; there was still so much he didn't know about Susan but what he had learned was settling well with him and he looked forward to making her more comfortable and forthcoming about her past. Steve really wanted to make this work; after Catherine had told him of her decision to remain in Afghanistan, he'd felt and emptiness inside that reminded him of when he'd lost his father and he didn't want to feel like that ever again. Danny and the others had been so supportive of him but it just wasn't the same thing – he wanted to be with someone who accepted him for who he was, someone who understood why he did what he did, someone who could strengthen him with a word and weaken him with a touch…someone like Susan. She wasn't interested in being his equal in work or skill, she wasn't needy or demanding, she just wanted to be safe and loved; Steve was more than willing to do both to her full satisfaction. The phone on his desk rang and Steve cradled the receiver against his shoulder, calculating how long it would take him to finish up all this paperwork. "McGarrett."

 _"_ _Steve, Kohlurov found us – he has Susan!"_

His entire existence seemed to narrow, focusing on those three terrifying words. "Is she – alive?" He stuttered, his chest feeling like it was full of concrete _. No, no, no, no, no! How could this happen now?_

 _"_ _You have to get here, Steve, they've got the house covered! She wouldn't come with me – I couldn't get her out…I'm so sorry!"_

The receiver hid the floor as Steve raced from his office. "Chin, Kono, with me! Have Duke get a SWAT team to my house ASAP; I need four black-and-whites and paramedics standing by!"

"Where is the Alpha drive? You can tell me now or I will cut you apart until I find it." Kohlurov explained calmly, taking a cigarette from his coat pocket, studying her as he took a deep puff.

"I think you know I'm not going to make this easy for you." Susan pointed out, shifting her weight, ready to fight if an opportunity presented itself. She was going to die so she may as well take a few of them with her. Misery loves company. "Threatening my life doesn't tend to put me in a generous mood, and we both know how effective you were last time."

The Russian snorted in annoyance, backhanding her with satisfying force. He would show her just how effective he could be. "Zatem pozvol'te nam nachat." (Then let us begin.)

Her cheek stung from the hit but when his coat shifted, she'd caught a glimpse of the knife he'd worn at the warehouse, still on his hip and she couldn't help the small grin that fitted her lips as her competitive survival instincts were roused. "Resheno." (Agreed) She whispered, instantly ramming the heel of her palm into his nose, snatching away the blade as his hands came up to cradle the broken bone. She spun to her left in a crouch, catching the guard closest to her across his belly, splitting him open from hip to hip; the second man kicked at her bad leg and blocked her first jab, nearly snapping her collarbone with the butt of his gun. Susan backed off, panting, and feigned a lunge before throwing the knife straight into his neck; Kohlurov was screaming at his men to bring her down and Susan dropped to her knees as a bullet tore through her right bicep. She managed to scoop up one of the discarded pistols but, left-handed, her aim was off and she nearly emptied the clip before bringing down another man. _Three down and four to go!_ The small victory was short lived as Kohlurov retrieved his blade and came up behind her, digging the tip into her shoulder.

"Ya volya kozha vy zhiv dlya chto! Poluchit' vverkh!" (I will skin you alive for that! Get up!)

Danny was standing in the street when Steve pulled up, a trail of silent police cruisers behind him. "Hey, are you okay? Tell me what happened!"

"Steve, I'm sorry, I tried to get her out, I tried, man – we were working in the living room and Susan got up to get a drink, or something, and the next thing I know she's dragging me towards the back door – there was someone upstairs – they were coming in the front door – I said we should run…she said she'd be right behind me…" Danny paused for a breath, hating himself all over again. "I made it out the back and turned to check on her…but she was still inside – when I went back…she told me to go and wouldn't open the door." He couldn't make himself repeat her last words to him, knowing it would only mess with Steve's head all the more.

"Okay," Steve raked his fingers worriedly through his hair, willing himself to stay focused. "It's okay, Danny, you did everything you could. It's not your fault; Susan wouldn't have wanted Kohlurov to know about you." He gently shook his partner's shoulder.

"We _will_ get her out, Steve. I promise you that; this shmuck picked the wrong house!" Danny swore hotly as SWAT arrived and he quickly pulled on a bullet proof vest from his trunk. Chin and Duke already had the house's floor plan pulled up and were going over all the possible points of entry.

"Hey, that security system I installed has three interior cameras; Kono, can you get us a live feed?"

"On it, Boss. I'm being redirected through the company's network now; we should have eyes up in five."

"Okay, good work, Kono, keep me posted." Steve turned to address the waiting officers. "I want a full perimeter around the house but stay out of sight for now; there are multiple armed targets inside and one hostage. Do not engage until we have confirmed that the hostage is safe. All orders go through me or my team – no one moves on this without my say-so!" He watched the SWAT team disperse as HPD set up roadblocks at both ends of the street; the houses nearest his were being evacuated now but they hadn't yet found the Russians vehicle. The best case scenario would be that they planned to use Susan as leverage for a van once they got what they were after – meaning they had to keep her alive – but he prepared himself for the possibility that they didn't have an escape route because they didn't plan on leaving alive _. I will_ not _let you die in there, Susan – not like Dad!_

"Hey, Boss, we've got a visual inside…you're not gonna like it." Kono warned.

"I'm sure you remember Doctor Ilia Stanislov; he was most helpful in providing a list of your…hiding places – but, of course, being the resourceful _zhivotnoye_ (animal) you are, you have secrets all your own." Kohlurov circled behind the chair she was bound to, pausing to rest his hands on her shoulders. "If the good doctor doesn't find my drive, I'll make you cut it out of your own miserable flesh." He squeezed hard, feeling the tendons in her neck strain against his fingers. She was still fighting him, even now…always resisting, always _upryamyy_ (obstinate). But even the strongest metal could be melted with the proper degree of heat.

Susan watched, strangely listless, as the doctor slowly pealed back the skin covering her knee, Kohlurov's voice droning on like a fly in the room. Her leg was numb, compliments of more than twenty surgeries and four years of amicability between them, and she felt detached from the seriousness of the situation. Danny was safe, Steve was gone, and she was going to die just how she'd always imagined – alone. Straining against the ties at her wrists was pointless and it disturbed the IV's in both arms, but it gave her something to work on; Kohlurov had brought enough blood to keep her alive for hours but she was set on making him waste every last drop of it before she'd tell him what he wanted to know. Susan forced her eyes away from the bloody ruin and couldn't help but smirk at the gauze stuffed up the Russian's nose as he came around to settle on the edge of the table behind the doctor. He'd insisted the Ilia tend him first and she couldn't resist harassing him about it – really, how much worse could things get? "Well, Ilia has his work cut out for him," _Literally!_ "And it's gonna take a while – but you know, I still have the number for that plastic surgeon."

"Neschastnyy svoloch'! (Miserable scum)" He cursed softly, considering taking over the doctor's work for him.

"Come on, Pavel, this is sloppy – even for you! – Someone will have heard the gunshots and called the police. But here you sit, three dead bodies in the kitchen, and only the Marx Brothers, there, to watch your back. How do you think this is gonna end for you?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, be assured, I know the ending of this story." He paused when the doctor groaned with uncomfortable disappointment.

"Nichego ya eto odin. (Nothing in this one.)" Stanislav announced, glancing up at his unfortunate patient, silently pleading with her to just give the man what he wanted so he could stop this horrible dissection. He slowly removed his gloved fingers from the hollow cavity of the young woman's left femur; he'd hollowed out the cap of the bone before inserting the replacement joint, leaving a small space against the lateral condyle that could be accessed between the posterior and anterior cruciate ligaments.

Kohlurov studied the exposed bone and prosthetic, his eyes following the trails of blood that were pooling at her bare feet. Susan was handling the pain better than he expected – the doctor was in more of a distressed state than she and he wasn't even doing anything! – But he was determined to get what he was after and Susan would soon realize that he shouldn't be underestimated.

"Dolzhen ya prodolzhat', zatem? (Should I continue, then?)" Ilia asked hesitantly, wandering how much more either of them could handle.

Tossing another IV bag to the surgeon, Pavel nodded with an obliging smile. "Iz kurs, Vrach, prodolzhit'. (Of course, Doctor, proceed.)"

Steve kept forgetting to breathe as the scene played out on the grainy police monitor, fighting the waves of panic and fear that washed over him as the shorter man began cutting into Susan's leg. He'd had to watch as she was tied to a chair and had the IV's inserted into both arms; there was blood on her shoulder and he couldn't believe how calm she looked. "Kono, find me a translator and have him review this – I want to know everything they're saying."

"Sure thing, Steve." She said gently, stepping away to make the call.

"Chin, we need to…" The sudden lump in his throat threatened to choke him. Susan was being tortured not two hundred yards away and there was nothing he could do! He wasn't there to stop his father from dying in that house and now Susan would die there too – alone. He felt Danny's hand on his back but couldn't look at either man right now; he didn't want their pity and he couldn't bear to see the same defeat he felt mirrored in their eyes. He couldn't hold on to anybody, it seemed; not Catherine, not his Dad – his Mom would rather be running for her life on the other side of the world than stay with him! – And Mary, she was making a life for herself, a life that didn't include a place for him.

"Hey, Steve, it's gonna be okay, you hear me!" Danny urged, shooting a desperate look at Chin. He knew they had less than a snow balls chance to get a happy ending out of this situation and he couldn't deny feeling responsible; he may not see Susan as an upstanding citizen but he wouldn't wish what she was going through on anyone.

"We're gonna do whatever it takes, Brah; we're all here for you _and_ Susan." Chin offered with that calm, serious assurance that his partners so admired.

"You know, one thing I realized today…she's _so_ much like you, Babe, and if _anyone_ can get through this, it's her. Susan is fighting for _you_ , in that house – so let's get busy and do our part, what do you say?"

Steve nodded his appreciation, wiping a hand quickly across his eyes. "Thanks, guys." It was all about hope, now - refusing to accept the inevitable outcome and creating a new one. Steve needed to believe that Susan was the one person he wouldn't let slip away, and he was going to do whatever it took to be there for her.

Kono returned after a few more minutes, noticing the change in mood but not mentioning it. She couldn't imagine what Steve must be going through and she wanted to do what she could to make this easier on him. "Okay, the translator is on his way but Facial Rec got a hit on the second guy with Kohlurov." She passed the print-outs to Steve and filled the other two in. "His name is Ilia Stanislav, he was born in Novosibirsk and went to medical school in St. Petersburg. He now works out of a pretty impressive compound in Kaliningrad and is apparently a pioneer in his field – which is state-of-the-art prosthesis and total joint replacements using some pretty futuristic stuff…everything from neuro interfacing to bionic electrode implants."

"Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but how does this help us get Susan out of there?' Danny asked, bewildered.

"Sounds like our 'Doctor Frankenstein' has made quite a name for himself; so what's he doing here with someone like Kohlurov?" Chin wondered aloud. "From what we know, Pavel Kohlurov is basically a glorified retriever for hi – "

"Actually, it appears the doctor may have a better connection to Susan than Kohlurov." Kono interjected.

"Susan told me about a surgeon she met in Russia," Steve recalled. "But she made it sound like she trusted this guy…"

"Which brings us to how this helps Susan." Kono explained, acknowledging Danny's question." Before today, I couldn't find a single connection between Kohlurov and Stanislav – accept Susan – "

"So maybe this guy nabs the doc because he performed all the surgeries on her, and he'd know exactly how to implant something else – "

"Or where to find something Susan's hidden. That's what this is!" Steve exclaimed, both relieved and terrified by the revelation. "Susan said she never carried information in the same spot twice because it would be too easy for someone to steal it; if she's carrying something Kohlurov wants, he'd need Stanislav to show him where to look…he must know Susan would never cooperate…"

"But why not just kill her and search the body himself? Why take the chance on bringing the doctor here and risk getting caught?" Danny pointed out, hating to sound so blunt.

"Yeah, he got what he wanted at the warehouse, right? I mean, you saw him take something out of her there – why wouldn't he just do it all there? It was a way better set up than this." Kono added skeptically.

"Maybe he didn't know what else she was carrying – maybe he doesn't have the time to find it on his own, it's not like she'd make it easy." Steve's phone rang and he turned to answer it. "Hey, Charlie, what've you got?" He listened for a moment, brows tensing, glancing between his team and the video monitor. "Okay, thanks, let me know when you've got the rest of it." Steve hung up and ran his hands over his face. "Okay, the interpreter is with Charlie and they're going over the audio now. Apparently Kohlurov is after something called the 'Alpha Drive', some kind of archive for Susan's clients – "

"The tattoo!" Chin and Danny exclaimed in unison.

"I asked her how she kept track of her jobs and she showed me the tattoo on her back." Chin explained.

"Yeah, those scans you took of it – she wrote everything down this morning and I uploaded it to our servers at the Palace." Danny added, counting it a small blessing that he hadn't been totally useless today.

"So even with Stanislav, Kohlurov still isn't going to get the information he wants." Steve said worriedly, knowing Susan would let him rip her apart before revealing the truth.

Danny sighed deeply. "And if the last time was any indication, he will ruin the real archive before he even realizes it."

 _She'll be dead for nothing – no one will win this._ Steve thought angrily, visualizing the haphazard wounds that had been inflicted by Kohlurov's man at the hospital. He'd skin her like a rabbit, but she'd never tell him the truth, and he would understand too late, just how clever Susan really was. "We need to get her out of there!"

Susan let out a sharp gasp and Ilia paused to glance up at her sympathetically. She didn't want to be here anymore than he did, but they had both fallen victim to Kohlurov's tenacity. She had ceased to watch the dissection – her body was keeping her well informed of every cut – trying to focus on something happy, instead. Namely, Steve. She was done being strong, putting up a tough front, because at this point she couldn't care less about trying to contain the tears and screams. Kohlurov was probably enjoying it more but she didn't care about that either…she just wanted Steve. To see his face…that smile…to feel the comforting strength of his arms – like an impenetrable shield – to have the fire in his lips ignite across her cheeks. The memory of waking up beside him was suddenly so vivid that she couldn't fight the tears that stung her eyes. _Just one more chance…please, just one more!_

"Ya ne mogu derzhat' eto vverkh, Pavel! (I can't keep this up, Pavel!)" Stanislav suddenly cried, rising to pace the room, tempted to scrub his face but for the dark blood coating both gloved hands. "Pozhaluysta, tam imeyet dlya byt' drugoy sposob! (Please, that has to be another way!)"

Kohlurov only smirked at the distraught surgeon as he approached his captive. Her eyes were closed and he slapped her hard, chuckling as her wrists suddenly strained against the ties, no doubt after his throat. "You are making the good doctor uncomfortable with these outbursts, Devushka (Girl)," He slapped her again, satisfied with the glowing hatred that lit up her dark eyes. "I suggest you be more considerate!"

"You won't get the archive, _Pavel_ – not from him and not from me – the longer you stay here, the harder it's going to be to leave." She grinned despite the fiery ache in her cheek, finding it funny that his name meant 'humble' in Latin. Oh, the irony! Her fingers were beginning to lose feeling so she flexed them, careful not to put more pressure on her raw wrists.

"I don't plan on leaving at all. Mikhail and Kirill are planting the charges now and as soon as my employer gets what he wants, all of _this_ ," He gestured to the house around them. "And all of _us_ will be no more – along with any policemen who get too close." Kohlurov lit another cigarette. "So you see, we have all the time in the world. Seychas, Vrach, vy imet' ostanovleny dolgo dostatochno." (Now, Doctor, you have stalled long enough.) He said calmly, turning to Stanislav and motioning for the man to come near as he drew the blade at his hip. "Prodolzhat' vash rabota, ili _ya_ volya." (Continue your work, or _I_ will.)

He knew he should be doing something – anything! – But he was frozen in place, watching helplessly as Susan's head snapped to the side as Kohlurov hit her a second time.

"Steve, don't do this to yourself! "Danny pleaded, unwilling to admit that his eyes had been glued to the monitor as well, until just a moment ago. "Come on, Babe, we both know your girl can take a hit – "

"Steve, the SWAT teams are in position and have confirmed that there are four targets in the house. Three are armed but two of them seem to be in the process of rigging all the access points with some kind of explosives." Duke informed the group. "An EOD team is on its way."

"Okay, Duke, make sure everyone has been evacuated from the area. Danny, come with me!" Steve took off across the street, cutting through the neighbors' back yard until he reached his own. He nodded to one of the concealed officers and pulled Danny down beside him. "You've got to help me get inside, Danno."

"What? Steve, are you crazy, didn't you just hear what Duke said? They've got the place rigged to blow – if you kick down the door, guns blazing, they'll – "

"I'm going in through there." Steve pointed to an open window on the second floor. "Susan left the bedroom window open and if it was already wired, they would have closed it. Come on, Danny, there's only two other guys and Kohlurov is busy with the doctor. Even if I can't take 'em out, I can be there…if something…if she…" He looked away, unwilling to let his mind dwell on those possibilities. "I just…need to be there for her. Please, Danny, help me."

Danny hated everything about this crazy plan, but he hated seeing Steve so vulnerable even more. He cursed under his breath the entire way across the long stretch of yard, seeing his cell phone in the grass as he pressed his back against the side of the house. He held his breath as he stole a quick glance around the corner, towards the lanai; all clear. If anyone could pull this off, it was Steve, but Danny still didn't feel right about sending him inside alone, SEAL training or not! The way was clear so he motioned for Steve and the man was at his side in seconds. "I can't believe I agreed to this!" He hissed, lacing his fingers together to form a stirrup. Trying to lift his partner was like trying to bench press a tank, but on the count of three he braced himself and heaved with all his strength as the SEAL planted one foot in the stirrup and launched his body upward. Danny gasped in relief when Steve caught the lip of the window sill and pulled himself up, staying below as long as he dared and wondering how he was going to explain this to Chin and Kono. Hearing nothing from the window above, he prayed Steve would be okay as Susan's last words came back to him: _'You'll keep taking care of Steve for me, won't you?'_ "Sorry, Kiddo, I tried…" Danny whispered sadly.

Steve crouched beside the bed, momentarily distracted by the scent that lingered on the rumpled covers – his shampoo with a hint of something sweet and feminine. _Susan_. Joe Whites' voice suddenly filled his head. ' _Stay focused, Soldier!'_ He'd screamed that out a thousand times during basic training and even now, the words grounded him, blocking out everything else. He moved towards hall but ducked quickly into the bathroom as one of the Russians backed into the bedroom, dragging a heavy case. Steve eased open the door just a crack, watching as the man kicked at a pile of clothes before noticing the open window; the assault rifle that had been slung across his back was now gripped in steady hands as he surveyed the empty yard before closing the window and drawing the curtains. The overhead light was off and without the natural light from the window, the bedroom was suddenly dark and Steve took advantage of the man's momentary blindness. He caught the man's wrist as he was reaching for the light switch, cupping his palm around the elbow before jerking the limb sharply in the opposite direction. The bones snapped but the man barely grunted, his free hand already swinging to deliver a severe blow to Steve's gut that sent the Commander sprawling backwards across the mattress.

"Vy vzyal the nepravil'no dom, nemnogo chelovek!"(You picked the wrong house, little man!) The Russian scoffed with a threatening grin.

Steve couldn't understand him but the man' intentions were clear enough as he fisted his good hand in Steve's shirt and pulled him forward. He had just an instant to act, and as his hips slid off the bed, Steve brought both legs up around the man's neck and locked his ankles, squeezing as hard as he could. Red slowly turned to purple and finally faded to a bluish-grey as the Russian stiffly sank to the floor and went still; it had taken several long minutes of struggling and Steve released him with a huff, letting his leg muscles loosen. One down and one to go, before it was just him and Kohlurov; Steve was fairly certain that Stanislav wouldn't put up a fight but he just wanted to make sure Susan was alright. As if she could sense his thoughts, her sharp cry pierced the momentary quiet and Steve bolted to his feet; the bedroom door was still open and the hall looked clear as he chanced a quick look towards the stairs. There were two guest rooms on his left so he checked right first, but a flicker of motion said he'd chosen wrong as what felt like a cinderblock collided with his head and he caught at the wall for balance as his face smacked into the doorframe, his cheekbone taking most of the impact. Blinking away spots blinded him to the boot flying towards his middle until he was flat on his back, struggling to remember how to breathe. The second Russian was taller than the first but not quite as stocky; he had a lean, chiseled face and pale hair that stood in short bristles on his scarred scalp.

Mikhail Abramov smiled lazily at the man on the floor, his eyes flicked over Kirill's body and he snorted in disgust. Kirill was always so loud and had a habit of becoming too focused on the simple tasks – a child could sneak up on him with ease, it was detestable and he was glad the oaf was dead. The man he'd surprised would be very different though, Mikhail recognized that at once and the prospect of a worthy fight made him excited. "Poluchit' vverkh, ya khotet' eto dlya byt' a vyzov!" (Get up, I want this to be a challenge!)

Steve rolled his eyes, despite the pain; this guy was itching for a beat down, his tone filled with enough cruel arrogance to make Steve's blood boil. He expected the Russian to capitalize on his compromised position but the man leaned casually against the wall, motioning for Steve to get up.

Yes, this man was military – maybe Army or Marines – though something like SAS or Green Berets would be far more entertaining. Mikhail waited as the man got to his feet, grinning as he prepared to attack.

Steve collected himself, poised for the Russian to engage him, knowing the confinement of the doorway and hall wouldn't work to his advantage, but was surprised when the man suddenly kicked off the wall and came at him from above, elbow aiming to shatter Steve's collarbone. He sidestepped, letting momentum carry the man past him before bringing his own elbows down onto the Russian's back; he flinched as a heel rocketed into the back of his thigh and bringing him down on top of his opponent.

Mikhail growled in triumph, twisting quickly to catch the man as he fell and encircling his legs around his chest, one arm already locked around his neck in a chokehold. His prey struggled but he tightened his hamstrings, beginning a steady rhythm of clenching muscle and heard the man gasp in pain with each sharp constriction. He would break the man's ribcage like this – as he had done so many times before – and would feel him suffocate when his lungs could no longer find the space to expand. Mikhail knew how painful _flail chest_ could be, when the broken rib bones separated from the chest wall, and if the forth column was disrupted enough, he would even break the man's spine.

Steve was in trouble and his body was abandoning his SEAL training in favor of pure survival instincts – in other words, he was panicking. As soon as the pressure around his chest went slack he would try to take a quick breath but the rhythm was perfectly timed to ensure that he never took in more than a shallow gasp – the arm cinched around his throat wasn't helping either. Without leverage or a target, his legs were useless, so Steve went for the only vulnerable spot within reach; his arms were slightly uncoordinated from lack of oxygen but it only took a moment to locate the man's face before his thumbs brushed across the rounded zygomatic bones and sank into the soft eye sockets above.

Mikhail shook his head, trying to dislodge the hands tearing at his face, even as he increased the force of his contractions around the man's chest. Maybe a few snapped ribs would make this more interesting. He was still confident that he could best the intruder with ease but he didn't rush things when it came to inflicting a painful death; he wanted to feel the man's panicked struggles, hear the defeat in his tortured gasps as bits of bone tore into his diaphragm and lungs.

Steve went suddenly limp as he felt ribs on both sides crack and shift. The pain stole what little breath he had been holding and his hands fell away, twitching as his body spasming in rebellion while the Russian continued his clonic rhythm. He pressed his chin further towards his chest, desperate to alleviate the stranglehold but only seemed to help the Russian tighten his grip. _I'm so sorry, Susan..._ He thought hazily before passing out.

"Mihail, chito yest' poyti na tam?"(Mikhail, what is going on up there?) His boss's voice stilled him just as he was ready to finish off the other man. "Oreshki!" He cursed, releasing his prize with a huff before rolling the man away and gaining his feet. "Kohlurov, an narushitel' imeyet priyekhat'!"(Kohlurov, an intruder has come!) His fun was over – Kohlurov would surely want to finish him off – and he angrily grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt and yanked him towards the door. Kohlurov was shouting orders at him but he ignored them as he stepped into the hall and pitched his adversary head-first into the wall. _This kill belongs to me!_ He seethed, kicking the body down the hall until he reached the staircase. Kohlurov was glaring up at him, like a disapproving parent, but he only offered a cold grin as he nudged his foot under the man's hip and sent him tumbling down the stairs. "Vse yavlyayetsya pod upravleniya, ya ostanovilsya yego."(Everything is under control, I stopped him.)

Susan opened her eyes, wishing she could pass out – or just die – already. Her whole body felt boneless from the pain and blood loss and the gag Kohlurov had fitted her with – appearantly he didn't enjoy hearing _that_ much screaming - was soaked with saliva and vomit. He was shouting at one of his men and she rolled her head to the side, desperate for even the smallest distraction.

"Gde yest' Kirill?"(Where is Kirill?) Pavel demanded, furious that someone could slip by _either_ of his men. "Li on poluchit' the raskhody ustanovite?"(Did he get the charges set?)

 _Maybe they'll all kill each other before we get blown up._ Susan thought, briefly optimistic, until Kohlurov stepped away, revealing the body now sprawled at the foot of the stairs. The gag did nothing to muffle her desperate scream as she instantly recognized the cargo pants and dark hair. _No, no, no, no!_ Susan fought with all her remaining strength to get free, to reach him, touch him, protect him – and slap him senseless for not staying away! Ilia backed away, hands raised as if she could tear him into one with sheer mindpower, and Kohlurov turned to watch her outburst, puzzled until he looked down at the intruder – and really looked.

"Ha! Well, Commander McGarrett, welcome home!"

Steve slowly came to – not because he missed the sharp pricks of pain in his chest or the pounding headache, but because someone was screaming his name. "I told you to _shut up_!" The reprimand was followed by the sound of a slap and Steve flinched, trying to raise his hands until he realized he wasn't the one who'd been silenced. "Susan?"

 _He's alive!_ Her heart thrilled at the sound of his voice and again she strained to reach him. There was a deep bruise blooming across one cheek and his neck looked strangely raw, but he was alive and she was at least grateful for that. "You shouldn't have come back here, Steve." She said coldly, torn in her joy at seeing him and in her dread of watching him die first; she knew Kohlurov wouldn't hesitate to use him against her.

"Hang in there, Susan." Steve panted as the pain in his chest steadily increased; he finally glanced around, taking in the three dead Russians that had been dragged into the kitchen and Danny's laptop still open on the coffee table; broken knick-knacks and shredded upholstery littered the floor, the couch had been up-ended and the TV was smashed. Susan was tied to one of the dining room chairs – as was he, Steve realized belatedly – and there was an alarming pool of blood under her feet. He couldn't believe she was still alive until he saw the IV's and the large cooler; Doctor Stanislav was still frozen, hands raised, and Steve quickly confirmed that the man wouldn't be a threat.

"Commander, you don't know how pleased I am to see you again. I have some unfinished business with Susan, but – as I'm sure you can imagine – she isn't being very cooperative. Perhaps you can help me with that."

"How about you let Susan go, okay, then I'll give you the Alpha drive." It was the best bluff he could come up with and was pleased to see the Russian react to it. "That's right, Kohlurov, she gave it to me –"

"Steve, shut up!" Susan warned; there was ice in her tone but her eyes were pleading with him to just stay out of this. "You know he doesn't have it, Pavel, and I won't hand it over with him here. Get rid of him and it's yours."

Kohlurov chuckled, stepping back to lean against the wall so he could see both of his captives. "What a surprise," He sneered. "Lyubov' zakhvaty vse!"(Love conquers all!) He would have thought a man of the law, such as McGarrett, would want nothing to do with a traitor like the young courier; but then again, all men were susceptible to the charms of a woman – even one so lacking in the usual comely feminine attributes. The Russian pushed off the wall and came to stand before Susan, bending down to grip her bound wrists and coming nose to nose with her. "Vot yest' _moy_ predlozheniye:Poluchit' mne the privod I ya uill pozvolyat' vy ubit' yego sebya – ili ya uill imet' Mikhail rabata na the Komandir kak vy smotret'."(Here is _my_ offer: Get me the drive and I will let you kill him yourself – or I will let Mikhail work on the Commander as you watch.)

Steve was beginning to regret not taking Russian in high school as he watched the two convers, but whatever Kohlurov was saying had Susan bristling with anger. _Be strong, Susan, we can get through this._ He silently urged, though he would be the first to admit that this wasn't how his rescue attempt was supposed to play out. Briefly he wondered how Susan had managed to take out the three dead men before ending up in that chair – Danny would surely bust his chops about being outdone in combat by a hundred pound female – if he ever saw his partner again.

Susan swallowed past the tightness in her throat, past the pain that was threatening to shut her down – a pain that had nothing to do with the recently inflicted wounds. Pavel was waiting for her answer, not that she truly had a choice, but while he had set the playing field, she could still move some of the pieces. "Ya uill dat' vy the privod…no odin raz ya ya sdelano s yego, nikto iz vy uill kosnut' sya yego telo. Nakhod yatsya nam yasno?"(I will give you the drive…but once I am done with him, none of you will touch his body. Are we clear?)

Kohlurov smirked. "Vy sdelat' ne imet' dlya – " (You do not have to - )

"Rugat' sya dlya mne, Kohlurov, na vash klyatva iz vernost' dlya mat' Rossiya!" (Swear to me, Kohlurov, on your oath of allegiance to Mother Russia!) Susan demanded, knowing his patriotism was strong and would bind him to his word.

His eyes turned hard and he was tempted to kill her on the spot but Mikhail came down the stairs, announcing that all the entrances were secure, and he was reminded of the plan. "Ya rugat' sya eto." (I swear it.)

Susan masked her surprise as Pavel agreed and cut her loose. She had a plan – a crazy, one-in-a-million shot – it would have to be done just right or she would end up killing Steve for real.

Steve's heart began to race when Kohlurov drew his knife and cut the ties restraining Susan. Their argument had been tense and when the other Russian came back down stairs, he was sure they were done for. He wished he could rely on his team to come to their rescue, but unless Danny drove his car through the wall, it would take time to deactivate the charges from the outside – time they certainly didn't have.

Susan stood with great effort, her ruined knees quivering as they struggled to keep her upright. She took a step towards Steve when Kohlurov jerked her backwards, nearly tripping her as she slid on the stained hardwood floor.

"The Drive first, my dear." It wasn't a suggestion as he pushed her back against the dining table and waved away the doctor. The man had thoroughly disappointed him and would pay for his uselessness.

Susan glanced sympathetically at Ilia as he edged past her but the aged man wouldn't meet her eyes. "I need your knife." She held out her hand but Kohlurov only snorted.

"You insult yourself by thinking me so foolish; there is a scalpel in Stanislav's bag, I'm sure the good doctor won't mind."

"Susan, what are you doing?" Why would she need a knife? What was he forcing her to do? "Susan, what – "

"I don't want you to watch this, Steve." Her voice was all business as she slid back onto the table, scalpel in her right hand, her left groping at her side. She couldn't believe she was going to do this, in front of Steve, in his home, for someone like Kohlurov – and it wasn't even what he was really after; the drive she would remove was nothing more than a set of faulty books for small ceramics business in China, the information Pavel was really after would go with her to the grave. The anger helped dull some of her anxiety and sharpen her focus as her fingers roamed for the right spot.

 _That's where – she's not gonna –_ "Stop, Susan, don't do it! Whatever he said to you – " _Don't listen? He's lying? I'll stop him?_ Steve couldn't say any of it while he was in his current situation…he could scarcely breath around the helpless rage building in his chest. "Just stop!"

Susan glanced up at him, disappointed. He wanted her to stop, to hope, to fight back and live; but their current environment wouldn't allow for any of those things. She could see how his emotions were overpowering his common sense and she hated herself for being the cause of such a lapse in his usually impenetrable façade. "Close your eyes…" She whispered to him, both a command and a request, before tucking the hem of her shirt between her teeth and inhaling deeply; her ribs expanded until they were clearly defined under her skin and again she spared a look across the room. Of course his blue eyes were riveted on her, blown wide with fear, his wrists twisting with an unconscious need to get to her. _Don't watch me do this, Steve; please…I don't want you to see this!_ It was bad enough that she had to cut into her own body, but knowing he would see her do it was somehow more agonizing. He would finally see just how messed up she was- how twisted, how crazy. She located the floating rib and stretched back the skin, her fingers ready and the scalpel poised to cut; this was going to hurt like crazy and she didn't want to see the look on Steve's face so she picked a spot on the wall above his head, letting her eyes go blank as all her focus became internal. The incision had to be at least four inches long but not too deep or she risked perforating her stomach.

Steve was shouting at her to stop but could only watch, horrified, as a streak of bright red suddenly spilled over her hands and the scalpel clattered to the floor. Both Russians had moved closer to watch in sick fascination while the doctor had quickly retreated to the kitchen, loudly emptying his stomach into the sink.

Susan exhaled slowly, hoping the pain would exit her body along with the spent oxygen; her hands were shaking and clammy but she knew she had to work fast before she lost her nerve – or bled out – whichever came first. The wound was overly sensitized and she nearly gagged when her fingers brushed against warm, wet bone. It was such a bizarre sensation, feeling your insides, and it only served to make her more aware of just how precarious this plan was.

Steve jerked with renewed panic when Susan suddenly gave a sharp gasp and fell back across the table; she'd been still for some time, eyes dulled with pain, face blank, and it crossed his mind to wonder if she were trying to kill herself before Kohlurov did. "Susan?" He called softly, ignoring the dark looks from his captors.

She had purposely positioned herself this way – her original plan shot down when Kohlurov made her get the drive before going to Steve – and as her head hit the tabletop, she closed her eyes and felt the weight of her lower body pull her towards the floor; Ilia was in the kitchen and she hoped he was functional enough to help out once her plan began to play out. As her chest slid off the table, Susan felt the drive slip into her fingers and she flung it towards the far corner of the room, relieved when she heard it hit the wall and clatter down behind the entertainment center. Rolling to her feet, she swept up the scalpel and faced Mikhail as Kohlurov let out a curse and went after the Drive. The tall Russian grinned down at her as Susan feigned a few slashes, maneuvering until she was between him and Steve.

"Susan, be careful!" Steve shouted as she was nearly knocked out by a sudden roundhouse. He held his breath as the two fought, trading hits like opponents who enjoyed the fight more than the victory, until Susan left herself open after a jab went too wide.

It felt like his fist had smashed clear through her ribcage and Susan collapsed around his arm like a popped balloon around a pin. She opened her eyes and saw a wrist flush with her stomach; startled she looked up and saw the look of surprise on the Russian's face before it turned into a wicked grin. His hand was inside her, punched through the hole she'd cut and there was suddenly nothing to do but scream.

Mikhail rammed her into the wall to shut her up, removing his fist, now reddened, to wrap around her throat, feeling the power of holding a life in his hands. He liked that power and savored it, watching the young woman struggle to breath. The law man was yelling again but was easily ignored as Mikhail used his other fist to split the skin at her temple and further damage her chest, knowing her lover could see everything.

The fresh hits barely registered to a mind already veiled in pain, but Susan did flinch as plaster suddenly exploded beside her head _– had Kohlurov detonated the charges?_ – but it was gun fire and she twisted her head to see Ilia awkwardly cradling an automatic rifle from one of the dead Russians. He jerked the trigger again and a line of bullets tore across the ceiling. _He's gonna get me killed!_ Susan swore before yelling at him to try aiming. Mikhail had let her go and was now reaching for the pistol at his hip when the rifle went off again and he dropped to the floor in a heap.

The Doctor was smiling in happy disbelief when a hole suddenly appeared between his eyes and he joined his first and only victim on the floor. Susan ducked instinctively, spotting Kohlurov as he shifted his aim towards Steve. "Don't!" She yelled, scooping up the discarded pistol and squeezing the trigger as she swung it towards the remaining Russian. The first two rounds shattered the TV but the third tore into the man's shoulder and he stumbled back, returning fire. She wasn't aware of being hit but continued to empty the clip into Kohlurov until he lay sprawled on the floor, thoroughly ventilated to her satisfaction. The sudden silence was unsettling, when she became aware of it, and Susan felt the spent gun slip from her numb fingers; the adrenalin haze was dissipating and she found herself falling to all fours, head spinning like a broken merry-go-round.

"Susan?" Steve cried, straining to see where she'd fallen; he'd seen her take at least one bullet but she hadn't even reacted as she'd advanced on the Russian with deadly purpose and put him down without hesitation. "Susan, can you hear me? Just hold on, my team will be here soon." If she could just manage to get him untied he knew he could get them to safety.

His voice woke her from a sleep she wasn't aware of falling into. _He's alive and safe, alive and safe, alive and safe._ She reassured herself over and over as she fought to keep her body from shutting down; Susan couldn't remember when the IV's had been taken out but she was now losing blood far faster than it could be replaced and the realization that she wasn't far from death spurred her to reach Steve as quickly as possible.

There were only two times in his life that such crippling fear had threatened to make his heart burst: When his Dad had come to school after Mom's 'accident' and when he realized that Victor Hess was going to murder his father and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But this was the third time – and maybe the worst – because he was watching the woman he'd come to love bleed out right in front of him and there was still nothing he could do. Susan was trying with everything she had to reach him but he could clearly tell that the damage to her body was too extensive and he couldn't stop the tears that suddenly flooded his eyes as he realized that she wouldn't make it long enough for help to arrive. "Susan!" He sobbed desperately as she collapsed on her side, coughing up dark blood as her whole body began to spasm with shock. "Hold on, Susan, please!"

She shuddered against the deep cold that was seeping into her skin; she felt so tired and would have gladly let go of everything right then…but then came that soft, broken voice and her limbs jerked her forward in response. She could feel a distance beginning to grow between her consciousness and reality as her fingers brushed the leg of his chair, there was blood at his ankles from straining against the zip ties and she wanted to berate him for such a display on her account. His fingers stretched to touch her as she gripped his legs, slowly pulling herself up into his lap; she couldn't tell which of them was shaking more but she settled her head on his shoulder, wanting to apologize for ruining yet another of his shirts.

Steve would have given anything to be able to hold Susan as she slumped against his chest; he was sobbing uncontrollably even though there was so much he wanted to tell her before it was too late. He could feel her chilled skin and flinched when she lifted trembling fingers to his face. "I'm right here, Susan." He glanced down as the blood from her various wounds began soaking his pants. "Please, please hold on!"

"S-sorry, St-eve…you tried – I know…y'tried." Susan whispered softly, tucking her face against his warm neck. She knew this would tear him apart and didn't want to make it any harder than it already was. "Not y-your fault. Love you…" She coughed, tiredly watching as a stream of red ran down his chest. This was really happening, she felt it come over her all at once, like the first big drop of a roller coaster, and that same breathless terror slammed into her, repelling the air from her lungs in one sudden, final gasp.

"Susan, please, just hold on! Please, please – I love you too!" He pressed his cheek against hers, feeling her heart beat slow, hearing that last, strangled breath, and the jolt as life left her body. "No, wake up! Stay with me, Susan, open your eyes – Susan, please!" He screamed in helpless agony as her head slid off his should and she fell back over his arm.

He was still screaming when a portion of the front wall caved in and Danny ran towards him. "Steve!" they'd tried to hold him back until the EOD had given the 'all clear' but the complete anguish in his partners' voice had him dashing through the smoke and debris without a thought to his own safety. After helping Steve reach the window, he'd returned to a worried team, not bothering to explain their leader's actions. They all knew Steve would find a way into that house one way or another, but their worry wasn't lessened any. They'd stayed by the surveillance monitor, ready for the instant that Steve was successful and they could join him inside. It was a nearly intolerable wait and many times they were tempted to attempt an entry, but faith in their fearless leader stayed them, even when they watched his body roll into view at the bottom of the stairs. Danny had sworn, pounding his fist on the hood and muttering about stubborn Neanderthals, but continued to watch as Steve was bound to one of his own chairs and made to watch as the Russians continued to torture Susan. When she'd engaged Mikhail, after falling off the table, Danny had ordered the men to gain entry by any means necessary. They'd heard the gun shots and he feared the worst when they lost the camera feeds, and it was a moment later that he'd snatched up Steve's keys and ran to his truck. He _would_ get into that house!

"Steve?" He called again but froze when he saw the scene before him – it was something out of the worst kind of nightmare and he quickly covered his mouth to restrain a scream of his own. Three bodies were scattered around the living room and there was more blood than he'd ever seen, in a pool by the dining table. Steve was still slumped in a chair by the staircase and Susan's body lay across his arms. She was clearly dead and Danny couldn't imagine what his best friend had been through – having to watch the young woman be tortured and finally die in his arms, unable to hold or help her. "Oh, Babe, I'm so sorry…" He came closer, slowly, wincing at the empty expression on the SEAL's face, nearly crying at the pain that filled the man's vacant eyes.

"Danny…" His voice was broken from the screams and he could barely breathe around the tightness in his throat. "She-she's dead…I couldn't save her."

Danny had bent down to cut his partner free but Steve didn't move beyond wrapping his arms around Susan's waist and holding her close. The team entered cautiously, taking in to gruesome scene and beginning their duties, giving their boss as much privacy as possible. Danny knew he should get Steve to a hospital, already he could hear the SEAL's labored breathing and clearly see the effects of his engagement with the Russians, but he was reluctant to disturb these final moments Steve had with Susan's body. All too soon, Max would come and want to secure the scene before collecting the bodies to bring to the lab; Steve would have to come and make the identification, Danny didn't even want to think of how hard that would be on him!

Steve could feel Danny still crouched down in front of him but he could do nothing more than cradle the cooling corpse, trying in vain to wish life back into it. They'd been so close to surviving this but some small part of him knew that a life with Susan had always been just beyond his reach. Some things weren't meant to be and he remembered her cynical comment about 'No happy ending'. They could have been happy, though, Steve was sure of it; but now he was left behind with nothing but brief memories and a broken heart full of teasing 'what-if's'. "I…" His voice came out as barely a whisper and he cleared his throat. "Help me lift her, Danny, please."

"Of course, Babe, I'm right here." Danny gently took her as Steve stood on shaky legs, his entire waist soaked in red. Someone silently provided a gurney and the two men carefully laid out the body, covering the worst of the damage under a sheet. An EMT came to wheel the bed away but Steve halted him with a look. "You've got to let her go, Steve; let them do their job…you should get checked out at the hospital." Danny felt awful, being so practical, but letting Steve linger here didn't seem like a good idea.

Steve nodded but made no move to let go of the gurney. He couldn't just leave when a part of him was convinced that he would walk by a room and see her examining a photo or hear her rummaging through his fridge for something new to try. Susan was still here, somewhere, just waiting for him to suggest they go for a walk or curl up in the hammock to watch the sunset. He ached for her and was thankful when he felt Danny's strong grip on his shoulder as the sobs returned and he was led outside into the darkness.

Steve spent the next week and half in the hospital, partly because of the injuries he'd sustained and partly because Danny didn't want him to have to face going home just yet. He'd been despondent, and though no one blamed him for grieving, they all waited in uneasy silence until he was ready to let them in. It took several days to even get a word out of him, beyond the facts and information needed to file the necessary reports – which he relayed with cool, professional indifference – but any attempts at conversation were met with hollow looks and trembling lips pressed tight.

It was a Wednesday when Danny drove him home and he stayed close as Steve unlocked the front door and stood a moment before going inside. Everything had been cleaned and put back into order, the floors scrubbed, the bullet holes filled in, and the ruined furniture replaced as if nothing had happened. He shuffled into the kitchen for some water, briefly wondering if he'd somehow woken from the most bizarre dream and Susan had never existed outside his own imagination. But he reached to open the refrigerator and froze when his eye caught on two glossy photos that had been tacked to the door; the first was him standing in almost the exact same spot that he stood now - but Susan was hanging onto his back, grinning sleepily over his shoulder. The second picture was of the two of them in his bedroom – Danny had taken it – Susan lay with her eyes closed as Steve was poised on top, kissing her on the forehead.

"Chin didn't think it was a good idea but I thought you'd like to see them – to see her." Danny said softly, watching the tremors of renewed sorrow shake the other man's strong frame.

"Yeah…you were right, Danno." Steve sniffed and wiped his eyes. "She's home."


End file.
